


No Fortunate Son

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-16
Updated: 2008-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Secrets and misconceptions lead to Dean having a very unexpected hunt on his hands. His own father.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Sam is keeping a secret , one that has followed him since early adolescence.  


* * *

**Sam tossed down his duffel bag and saw the muted colors on the bedspread blending together into Southwest sludge. That was the pattern’s name, he imagined, because orange and violet with tints of sickly turquoise could not be anything better. He was stripping off his jacket, the material stiff with blood and dirt, when Dean entered the hotel room. Despite having been right beside Sam during the butchering of the gakI, Dean looked clean. Which was why Dean was the one to rent the room in the hotel office and afterwards go for food. Sam saw a certain smile on his brother’s mouth and felt part of his gut twist in reaction. Because few things made Dean smile like that and the biggest reason? Made Sam want to break things.**

**Oblivious to his younger brother’s brooding frown, Dean dropped the greasy paper bags of food on the table, thinking the girl at the drive-thru window was a knockout and then- you add smelling like cheeseburgers? Aphrodisiac. He peeled off his jacket and threw it over a chair before commenting.**

**“Dad called.”**

**Sam wasn’t sure if he was supposed to pretend to be happy and have the Look from Dean that said he wasn’t fooled- or just skip ahead to saying little to nothing at all. He settled for being quiet. Besides he hurt all over and needed a shower. Not even the scent of red meat was drawing him out of needing to bathe. Too bad the Impala wasn’t a Winnebago. With a shower inside. Real beds. But Dean would never be caught dead driving a Winnie around, even if he was saving lives. Since Dean was eating French fries in bundles, Sam sighed.**

**“What’d he want?”**

**Dean lifted a golden brow at the minimal interest from Sam and downed some Coke before replying, “Checking in. Wants to meet up with us in Abilene. I told him we’d be there by tomorrow night.”**

**“Long drive.”**

**Dean shrugged at the soft words. “I’ll sleep when we get there.”**

**As Dean turned away, he missed the flash of dread in Sam’s eyes and the way his brother’s lips tightened over his teeth. Sam was up and in the shower before Dean could say anything else. He cleaned the grime and gore from his tawny skin, his mind a million miles away. He tried to think of some feasible reason they could not make it to Abilene. An out that would make Dean agree and they could high-tail it to fucking Nova Scotia instead. Sam wanted to see John Winchester about as much as he wanted a root canal. His stress level did not seem to translate the same to his body though. He was half hard and that made him lean to the tiled wall. Eyes closed, head bent under the spray of water, Sam bit down on a yell that wanted to rip free.**

**This would be the first time he saw his father where Dean might be incapacitated. By sleep. It never took much for John to take a chance. To make a move. After all, Sam was never going to tell and it was convenient. It was vengeance for a secret that he loved to whisper in Sam’s ear. Hearing that Dean would crash made Sam coil within, like a snake. He heard a booming knock to the door along with a kick for good measure before his older brother was yelling past the wood.**

**“Shake it off and let’s go, Sammy! I want some hot water too… goddamn princess…”**

**Sam glared and rinsed off, being sure he was soap and shampoo free before drying off. He ignored his arousal and dressed in the bathroom, the steam making his clothing cling to him like it was painted on. He let Dean have the bathroom and ate what was left of the food. Eating was an automatic thing. He was raised being told to finish what was in front of him. Keep the body fueled and that was that. When he had first left for college, Sam had a bitch of a time learning to eat slowly. Not just wolf down his plate and go.**

**All those little hunter quirks had tripped him up a few times before he got it down. Pretending to be normal. Not always looking in the dark for monsters or imagining he was going to live his whole life in a car. Until something too big or vicious came along and tore him to pieces.**

**Sam went back into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, ignoring Dean’s hisses when he sparingly used the cold water in the sink. Dean could just suck it up since he was so gung-ho about seeing John. Petty, but Sam wasn’t feeling very giving in the moment. He was in bed when Dean came back in the room, lying under a blanket he had brought out of the Impala.**

**“Never shoulda let you watch that Dateline about hotel rooms.”**

**Dean said the words teasingly but still used his own personal blanket Sam had tossed onto his bed. He noticed Sam was looking morose and sat down to have a smoke before asking, “You okay?”**

**“Yeah.”**

**Dean half nodded at the minimal answer, one hand lazily waving in a circle.**

**“Well enough about you, Sam.”**

**“Sorry…just tired.”**

**Sam sighed and hid half of his face with the convenient pillow. He did better at these conversations if he did not have to look directly at his brother. Feigning sleep was Plan B, if necessary. It wasn’t. Dean turned on the tv and his compelling green eyes were locked to the bluishly glowing screen. Sam snuck a glance to see what Dean was watching so closely and had to hide a laugh. Why Dean liked ‘Clean House’ was beyond Sam. He finally had to ask, “What is it with you and this show?”**

**“Stuff.”**

**Dean glanced to his brother and back to the screen.**

**“I can’t get over how much stuff people have. I mean…Christ. There are boxes on top of piles. It’s crazy. I only ever had what I can carry. I guess it’s just like watching footage from Mars for me. Did it weird you out staying in one spot for school like that? Living with someone?”**

**“I can live with anyone after living with you.”**

**Sam said the words on a yawn. He was so not going to talk about living with Jessica. How great it had been. A chance at having normalcy. A real address, phone number, group of casual friends. Not a sawed off shotgun in sight. Sam dropped off to sleep with the sound of Dean chuckling over something on the television.**

**Dean turned his head once Sam’s breathing evened out. He wondered over the sudden shifting gears of Sam’s mood but he could hardly keep up with it. Sam was mercurial at the best of times. If you actually threw him a real curve ball? Batten down the hatches because Hurricane Sammy was coming, with torrential emo in the forecast. He saw the delicate flickering of Sam’s eyelids and knew his brother was dreaming. Dean tapped out another smoke from his pack and lit up, sitting back to the headboard and wondering what was going on in that giant head over there. He shrugged it off and turned back to the television, finishing his smoke before flipping over to watch some low budget porn. He fell asleep to some nice ‘unh-unh’ sounds, smiling at his version of white noise relaxation.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: John and Sam are left alone, and like every time before, it's going to leave a mark.  


* * *

**The next evening found the Impala parked in front of a hotel that seemed to sag under its neon sign. The sign consisted of a buxom cowgirl riding a busting bronco, clearly- if without words- stating this was a dive. Cheap, nameless, rooms by the hour- but the walls were thick. Sam had not missed touring all the seediest hotels in America during his hiatus in the university. Stanford had been an oasis of cleanliness and quiet compared to places like this one. The Bronco Inn was so not his type of place. He kept that to himself since the sign made Dean grin like he was seeing an old friend. Probably bonding with the large illuminated tits. Shouldering his bag, San followed after Dean to the room number their father had texted to Dean.**

**Sam stood back a little as Dean rapped the door and then John Winchester’s broad shoulders were filling the space. Those big arms hugging Dean warmly before John locked eyes with Sam. The prodigal and all. Sam nodded tightly and then since he felt Dean’s eyes, drummed up a smile.**

**“Hey Dad.”**

**The words felt like cooled lead on Sam’s tongue but he was playing the game. Making something normal out of the miasma of strange they lived in. He still wanted to bolt when John smiled to him. Like a loving father.**

**John Winchester saw the angular lines of Sam, those changes in the younger man. Like warnings to the trained eye. Sam was not thrilled to see him. Wanted to be just about anywhere else. They could work on that later. They had time.**

**“Sam. Good to see you.”**

**John saw Dean almost smile and that made the charade worth it. He could play up a little into Sam’s moodswings, always had. How many times had he and Dean shared a look over Sam losing his temper or ‘needing space’? Plenty. Sam made it easy. John ushered them in and soon both young men had cold beers in their hands. John tossed Dean the key for the room two doors down and sat down on his bed facing them. The brothers shared the chairs at the table, both looking to their father but their eyes were contrasts. Dean’s gaze was open, seeking- attentive. Sam? Guarded, wary and some foreign aspect that almost looked like hopeful.**

**“I put you boys through a ringer getting to this point. I hear you killed a gaki the other night. They can be pretty tough. Who finished it off?”**

**Dean glanced to Sam and then back to his father, shrugging.**

**“It took both of us, Dad. We were both running it down and trying to keep it too busy to leave it’s host…”**

**“Dean killed it.”**

**Sam said it wearily, wanting to skip past the cat and mouse of who did what and how. He knew John would eventually boil it down to the killing blow. He always had before. That was what mattered to the older man. That Dean was keeping up the standards set for them. Dean was succeeding and foregoing anything like a personal choice in his life or any attachments or interests outside of hunting. As long as John knew Dean was in line? That was what mattered.**

**Something in Sam’s eyes was already irritating the living hell out of John but this was not the time to take care of it. Not when Dean was sitting there between them trying to make peace like always. Cover up those rifts that were ever yawning blackly between his father and younger brother. Had to hand it to Dean, he never gave up hoping his decimated family might make good. Have some peace and harmony. Thing was, Dean didn’t know the whole story and it made him softer on Sam than he ought to be. For now though, Sam’s loyalty and love for Dean was working as a plus. Sam had Dean’s back and no matter what trash Sam was inside, he was dedicated to his older brother. It pained John to look at Sam and see how his wife’s face was there just under the edges of masculinity. Mary’s eyes had been so emotive and spoke volumes, and now Sam had them, condemning John. At times, Sam even smelt like Mary. That sweet laundry scent with ozone, something crisp and light.**

**John’s silence was enough to make Dean blink and shake his head. He was too beat to sit here and stare at his family members. He stood and rolled his wide shoulders, getting the crick out of his neck.**

**“I’m going to sleep some. When you decide what we’re doing, let me know. Until then… I’m crashing. You going to be okay, Sammy?”**

**“We’ll be fine.”**

**John answered for Sam, seeing the younger man’s lips compress to a tight line. John nodded reassuringly to Dean, his dark eyes crinkling in the corners as he muttered.**

**“We won’t kill each other, Dean. Don’t worry. We have some catching up to do. We’ll wake you up when it’s time to eat.”**

**“Sounds good.”**

**Dean patted Sam’s shoulder and then he was leaving the room.**

**Sam heard the receding footsteps and then farther down, the creak of the old doorjamb as Dean let himself into the room away from their own. He would have missed even those noises if the window next to him had been closed. As if reading his mind, John was up and closing that lone window. Sam leaned back, not wanting to be any closer than he had to be. John’s hand still landed heavy to his hair and Sam winced, his hair suddenly being pulled into that capable fist, his head drawn back.**

**John smiled down into the slitted angry eyes of Sam and did not lessen his hold in the least.**

**“You’ve lost weight. What’ve you been doing? Just sitting back and waiting for something to off you? Makes Dean’s job harder you know. He worries about you so much.”**

**Sam bared his teeth in a half snarl before he whispered, “Why don’t you just get it over with? Save your breath.”**

**The older man grunted a laugh and then used his hold on Sam’s hair to pull him to his feet. Sam was all legs as a boy but he was certainly filling out. More than John had really anticipated. Didn’t matter though. There was never any question who was in charge here.**

**“Go to the wall. Face it… you know what I want.”**

**Sam Winchester felt his breath lock in his chest and whoever he was before he came in this room? Seemed to evaporate and he was a fucking kid again. Gangly and coltish, thirteen years old and being slammed to a wall as his father told him what he had learned from a demon he had trapped. Those insidious words curling into the boy’s heart and taking root. Poisoning him. He could still smell the Jim Beam on John’s breath as he rasped out what Sam was going to do. How if he didn’t do it? He would never see Dean again, because Dean went where John took him. Because THEY were family. Sam was an aberration, a stain that came along and tore apart everything they had. But Dean never had to know everything, if Sam was useful . If Sam understood his new place.**

**John watched Sam stand and admired the body on him as Sam walked like he was entranced to the wall. His well-made hands went to the wall and then he pressed his forehead there, knowing to keep his shoulders back, his hips as well. Otherwise John would punish him and Sam just wanted it done. Sam told himself to concentrate on the fact that they would be leaving John behind again soon. Dean would be taking him away from this, and they would have some time without this. Without John’s hands lifting his tshirt and rolling it upwards to look at the smooth line of his back.**

**Pressing strangely hot kisses over his spine and licking the taut dark gold skin as Sam shuddered and wished he could just shut off his mind. He tried to picture Dean, the slamming doors of the Impala, dust and Pixie Stix on his tongue because Dean always gave him candy. Knew his sweet tooth. John knew things about Sam that tortured him. Things he wished he could scour out of himself. Those heavy hands were at his belly now, undoing his belt buckle and letting it clunk hard to the wall before unfastening the brown leather belt covering him. Keeping out John’s lust a little bit at a time but it was never enough.**

**The faded denim sighed, the zipper hissing open and then Sam tensed, not able to help it when his jeans were being tugged down. No one else ever touched him like this and his body remembered. John knew even when it was bad, how to make it good enough to get Sam off. It was the worst part. Sam prayed every time that *this* time he could be unresponsive. It never worked.**

**“I surely missed this.”**

**John’s gruff voice was soft as he palmed Sam’s ass in his broad hands, squeezing hard and tight and hearing the gasp from Sam. Too bad. For all that had been taken from him? Sam could afford to give some back. He could give a lot back for the mercy John showed him.**

**“You want this the easy way or the hard way? You tell me, Sam. I’m getting mine either way.”**

**Sam closed his eyes tightly and whispered, “Whatever you want.”**

**“Nice of you. Ah…but you don’t want Dean waking up too soon, do you? Want to move it all along so no one’s the wiser… I got you, I understand. Make it easy for me, Sam. Show me.”  
**


	3. Chapter 3

  
Author's notes: Sam wonders if his life is going to be a series of nightmares with John, Dean the only bright spot he knows.  


* * *

**‘Show me’.**

**Just like that, John was turning the knife in the wound. Making Sam be an active part of his own torture. Not letting him sideline his mind and keep anything for himself, no safe quarter. Sam knew what to do, even if the knowledge was burnt deep and scorched his mind. He ground his teeth together and pushed off the wall. John could step back or be stepped on, but Sam knew it was time to move. Prove how fucking eager he was to be of use to his ‘father’.**

**Sam moved away from John and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots and socks, keeping them together, his jeans falling over it all. He dropped his boxers and resisted the urge to cover himself with his hands. It would not do any good and might just make things worse. His stormy eyes focused on John and Sam had to dig deep to pretend he wanted John. Act like he desired this forsaken union and all it tore out of him. The younger man licked over his lips and walked to John, a sinuous grace to his long body that was normally lacking. This was like a hunt, bringing down John’s lust and holding it. Killing it with satiation. Just another job.**

**His hands went to John’s nape and then slid over the collar of his shirt, moving downward to the other man’s jeans. Sam felt a lurch in his belly as he was mentally replacing someone else’s face over John’s. God forgive him. He was looking right at John and seeing the dark features bleed out to gold and blonde. The murky eyes of the senior Winchester were replaced with an emerald held to sunlight shade. The same defense mechanism Sam had used since he was sixteen, perfected. Never say a name. Not even once.**

**“I do want you. So bad. I never know how to ask for it, for what I really want. I know you give me more than I deserve and I’m still going to ask for more…beg for it…”**

**Sam eased to his knees and opened the belt buckle before him, availing himself of John’s zipper. He tugged the jeans down enough to reveal John was convinced of his performance. John was hard and red, already showing signs of needing release. Sam looked up to John, and the older man missed how Sam’s eyes were glazed, going past his shoulder to keep his mental picture in place.**

**John smiled and loved seeing Sam like this. All that hate and burning was always replaced by this puppy-eyed boy that would do whatever he was told. Obeyed gladly like he knew no other way. John played his hands in Sam’s hair and watched that pretty mouth fall open. Take him. Sam knew how he liked it. No love. No tenderness. Straight hard fucking. Getting his needs seen to and showing this spawn what he was good for. John rutted into Sam’s mouth and felt the eager sucking get more intense, locking around him. So it was like that, was it?**

**“That’s enough.”**

**Sam looked up, his mouth full of John’s thickness, a question in his eyes. John smiled and eased out of the lips servicing him. His eyes narrowed before he nodded to the bathroom.**

**“You don’t get off that light, boy. I need more than that. Get on in there… by the sink.”**

**Sam had to concentrate hard, but it was slipping. He had never touched Dean in his life this way, or had his brother lay a hand to him- but he suspected deep down Dean would not be this way. Not the way it was going. Dean never hurt him. Never. John was not so shy about it.**

**The youngest Winchester stood nude in front of the sink, the mirror on the wall reflecting back the harsh lines of his face as he waited. Tense, drawn like a bowstring, he gripped the sides of the fake marble topped sink and bowed his head. He did not need to look at himself to know what was in his eyes. Shame and helplessness were never pretty.**

**John picked up the soap pump from the counter and got plenty in his hands before slicking up his fingers. He was up to his second knuckle in Sam before hearing a soft hiss from the boy. John smiled, adding two more fingers and garnering a real yelp from Sam’s lips. He liked that. Liked knowing Sam was with him, paying attention. Taking it.**

**“I wish you didn’t have her eyes.”**

**John said the words low before he was kicking Sam’s legs wider open and one broad hand was pushing Sam’s belly hard to the sink top. John fucked into the young man and kept up a bruising pace. He could not deny, for all his hell-tainted blood, Sam felt like heaven. Sam was constricting around him, so burning hot. John bit down into the back of Sam’s shoulder, one hand reaching around to fondle Sam’s erection. John laughed a little when Sam squirmed, the embedding of his cock not giving the boy much room to move.**

**“Tell me, Sam… tell me…”**

**Sam closed his eyes tightly and a sob was building in his throat. He did not want to cum. He wanted to just take it and then heal. He bit into his lip and tasted blood as John went hard at him. Pounding him. He shuddered at the words, the order in them so apparent. He knew what John wanted to hear.**

**“Thank you… thank you for making me…important. For letting me serve you… please you. Sir. Thank you, sir. Use me. Use me. I belong to you.”**

**John got close at the gasped words, but there was more. He liked to feel Sam break for him. Not just drain him. That was never the end. John bruisingly gripped Sam’s hips and slammed into the other male, digging into him before he asked, “Why, Sammy? Why?”**

**GodohGod. Sam trembled violently, not wanting to go into this. Not again. Agan and again.**

**“Because… I stole your… life. I’m trash you… use. I’m your pet. I’m nothing if you don’t want me. If I can’t do what I’m good for. Please, Sir… please…”**

**Sam was cumming in John’s rough hand with a strangled sound, knees wanting to buckle but not being allowed to fall down. Sam was filled with his seed and that was good for now. John tore loose of Sam and stepped back, looking over the marked up skin of Sam’s shoulder and back.**

**“Take a shower. You smell like a whore.”**

**John said the words and left the bathroom, letting the door shut behind him. He paused just outside of it and heard the low sob that finally came out of Sam. About damned time. The boy waited long enough.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

  
Author's notes: Interlude between brothers  


* * *

**One foot kicked out and there was an odd bark into his pillow before Dean was sitting up in bed. He looked -naturally- to the bed next to his own and it was empty. Made up. He rubbed both hands over his face and realized where he was. Why. His Sam-check reminded him Sam was trying to have some time with their Dad. Working over issues so old they were like monuments, standing stones marking the time of their lives together. Dean looked hazily around the hotel room and rolled out of bed. It was getting kind of late and his stomach was telling him it didn’t give a straight fuck what he did for a living or how many lives he saved if it wasn’t being filled up.**

**“I hear ya.”**

**Dean patted over his demanding belly and picked up his jeans where he had kicked them off. He was just pulling on his boots when the door to the room opened and Sam was entering the room. Dean lifted his brows and then had to yawn and stretch before asking.**

**“Hungry?”**

**“Sure.”**

**Sam was changing his shirt, and Dean didn’t think it was all that dirty. If at all. Sam left on his tshirt though and then went into the bathroom, emerging a few seconds later in just the new shirt. Like he couldn’t change right there in front of Dean? Not that Dean demanded his brother strip off in front of him but it was an odd thing. Sam was not usually so heavy on the modesty. It went out the window when you had to look over each other for injuries or have your kid brother be your responsibility. Dean recalled when Sam got chicken pox and later his first hickey. He was well versed in Sam-o-nology, but you probably couldn’t get a degree in that.**

**“You alright?”**

**Dean’s soft question had a few layers. Sam could define each one. Worried in general, worried over Sam and John fighting, concerned Sam might not say anything or worse- had said way too much. Sam met his older brother’s seeking eyes and shrugged.**

**“Same thing as always. No changes. I thought you were hungry. We going or what?”**

**“Feisty.”**

**Dean laughed a little and won a small smile from Sam for the teasing. He stood and pulled on his jacket. He checked his hair in the mirror, asking, “You think we should ask Dad to come with?”**

**“No.”**

**Sam’s clipped answer made Dean realize at least things were still normal around here. Sam walked to the door, adding, “He’s sleeping. Had a drink or two and decided to have a nap. You know what he’s like if we wake him up.”**

**“Yeah.”**

**Dean did know. He had gotten slugged for it once or twice himself. Not that John meant it. He just came out of sleep swinging if you startled him. John was so used to hunting that he was always seemingly on the job and edge.**

**“We can just bring him back something.”**

**Sam barely acknowledged the words with a little grunt as they walked to the car. Dean let it pass. Sam and John always had to have their circling and growling process and while exhausting to watch and intercede in, Dean was used to it. Like you got used to gun fire in a war zone. Almost could sleep to it. They found a local diner that wasn’t horrible and Dean coaxed Sam into conversation. Not over work, instead settling on something relaxing. The comic book chick with the best rack and legs. Dean was just relieved to see his little brother relaxing some and considering those balloon boobs that also tried to save humanity. Ordering some fried chicken and sides for their father, Dean then paid the tab with a sideways look to Sam. He just noticed Sam was sitting forward like he was pained, and then grimacing before having more coffee. Dean thanked the waitress at the counter and walked back to the table.**

**“Hey…you okay?”**

**Sam nodded at the soft question and then rested a hand to the side of his head, copping out. “It’s just my head. You know. No big deal. Just tired.”**

**Dean nodded, still eyeing his brother.**

**“Yeah. You need to get back to the room and get some sleep then. It’s not good to miss too much sleep. Makes you cranky.”**

**“You mean losing sleep makes you cranky.” Sam returned with a sincere smile teasing over his lips.**

**“Which makes you cranky eventually. Same difference.”**

**Dean clapped a hand to Sam’s back and felt his brother tense. He gave Sam another measuring look over that. Dean could wait though. Sam’s fortress of solitude thing never outlasted his older brother forever. When they got back to the room, Dean was pushy from the get-go.**

**“So lay down already, Sammy. No laptop, no books that smell like a granny’s couch. Just chill out. Let’s find something good to watch. Relaxing. What do you say? Horror? Violence? Western?”**

**Sam wasn’t sure why Dean was trying to baby him but he imagined it was because their Dad was there. Like Dean was trying to pick up John’s slack in the parenting department. Sam did not want to dissuade Dean from it. Maybe nurturing was not nearly what Sam desired or expected from John, but from Dean it was like manna from heaven. Sam would take all he could get. He reclined on his hotel bed and moved around to alleviate the ache in his lower body and back.**

**“Horror.”**

**“Alright but no talking during the good parts.”**

**Dean scanned the channels and settled on ‘The Hills Have Eyes’ before he went to lay next to Sam, throwing an arm across his brother’s face until Sam shoved him and then rested his head close to his older brother’s shoulder. Sam loved how Dean smelt. Gun oil and gasoline so thin over leather and soap, Dean’s own scent that reminded Sam of summer. He felt safe like this, as if nothing bad could have happened to him or ever would. It was not the truth, but it was a sweet lie to wrap himself up in. Sam could take it now and be happy to have it, because even if Dean was misled and unknowing- he still loved Sam. He didn’t know any better. Wasn’t told the truth. Sam was dimly aware of the movie, mostly listening to Dean’s reactions. The soft indrawn breath that meant Dean was thinking what he would do in the situation, or getting frustrated when people did the absolute wrong thing. Dean smiled over some of the more gruesome bits and Sam had to whisper.**

**“It’s not a comedy, you know.”**

**Dean turned his eyes to his brother and his lips tilted in a warm smile.**

**“Yeah, I know… but when people get really scared it looks funny to me. I’m a bastard.”**

**Sam rested a hand to Dean’s belly and shook his head some. He was tempted to throw one long leg over Dean and truly be comfortable, but that might be too close and tight for Dean. Very hetero and skirt-chasing Dean might find a reason to get off the bed and go looking for T &A, or just use his own bed. Sam wanted Dean to stay this close as long as he could. Maybe he could absorb some of Dean’s energy, burn away what was inside of him. What would never be scrubbed clean.**

**“Dean?”**

**It took a few seconds and then Dean whispered back. “Yeah?”**

**“You ever think… what things would be like… if Mom… if not for me? I mean…you’d have..”**

**“What?” Dean turned to more fully look at his brother. “What are you saying? I thought we had this talk already…”**

**“No, it’s just…” Sam stopped and sighed, the movie just background noise now as he tried to make Dean see. Make Dean think about things before someday John did lose any use for him. Before John told Dean all the truth, and everything came crashing down for Dean. Caught him off-guard and wrecked him because Dean never stopped believing Sam was a good thing.**

**“It’s just not right.”**

**Dean finished for Sam and looked down to him, eyes direct and probing. He met his brother’s haunted eyes and gentled his tone. He did not want to spook Sammy when he already had so many doubts. Losing Jessica, developing his strange new psychic gig? Sam didn’t need more world on his shoulders.**

**“Look, Sammy? I promise you. Here and now? There’s no one I’d trade for you. There is nothing I would do to make you not be here, even… even if it meant I had some white picket fence life. With Dad and Mom and a dog. None of that is me, because you wouldn’t be there. It’s that simple. I don’t want any kind of life without you. So stop acting like I’m going to change my mind. You change your mind about me? Ever want to wake up and be Dean free? Of course not. Who would want that?”**

**“No one.” Sam replied softly, not even joking. He bit his lower lip and then nodded to Dean. “I got it. I understand… I’m sorry. All this shit sneaks up on me sometimes.”**

**“Preaching to the choir.”**

**Dean smiled and laid back down, at ease since Sam was not reaching for his iPod and tuning him out. Even stroked his ego a little bit. Not bad for a night’s work.**

**“So Dad say anything about the new job he’s working?”**

**Sam waited a heartbeat before he murmured, “No. Have to ask him in the morning.”**

**“I hope it’s something choppable. I like the guns, don’t get me wrong but sometimes I like being elbows deep and going to town.”**

**Sam looked at Dean and then smiled. “Anger management much?”**

**“Work is my anger management.” Dean chuckled and stretched out, amending, “That and tail. Speaking of which. There’s a bar like a stone’s throw from here. Did you see it? The Cadillac? Sound interesting? Eh? Eh? Maybe tomorrow night after we do some good for humanity we can go and knock the dust off little Sam.”**

**Sam closed his eyes and feigned sleep until Dean stopped talking, not wanting to hear another word. He actually did fall asleep, a mercy since it got Dean to shut up and fall asleep too. Whatever came the next day, right now he had Dean beside him and it had to be enough.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

  
Author's notes: Sam dreams of the first time John turned on him.  


* * *

**Sam slept like he had run a million miles to fall some place safe. He always slept better and deeper next to Dean. In his dreams, he could still smell Dean and feel the warm shifts of his brother’s body next to his own. Dean held him, that was the only word for it, still managed to cradle Sam despite the ‘baby’ brother being taller. Older. Dean never let go if Sam had a nightmare, even if he only half awoke for Sam’s restlessness. The really bad nightmares had Dean sitting up for hours, watching over Sam like he was on guard, a dream catcher, there to snag any nightmares that tried to creep up on them.**

**In his dreams, Sam was remembering that first day his father looked at him like he was something alien. Reprehensible. Sam was sitting on threadbare carpet, a textbook on his lap as he wrote notes to the side in his binder. Studying for his history test and always bemoaning that school history lessons always skipped any interesting parts of the past. Dry and dusty, bloodless facts were more the order of the day. Sam had said as much to his history teacher and Mr. Goddard smiled to the bright boy and tried to reassure him by saying, “Just wait, Sam. With your scores? You can attend college and pick all those things you want to study. Special studies, so many aspects of history. You’ll find your place there, you really will. As much as you love to learn and question, you’ll love college. Ah, your father still needs to sign those progress reports…?”**

**Sam had assured Mr. Goddard the progress reports would be signed and brought back in. He would just have to have Dean sign them because his dad had been gone longer than usual this time. No sense in waiting for John. At least Sam was an honors’ student and that took out the urgency of parent-teacher interaction. He was not a problem child. Not at school anyway. At home, Sam was chided by John for tucking his nose into his books so much and escaping training every chance he got.**

**Hearing the crunch of tires outside the house, Sam looked up from his books and stood as he heard his father talking to Dean out in the yard. Telling Dean to clean up the cans he had been shooting and then take the car into town to get groceries. Sam scrambled for his sneakers, wanting to go too, with Dean, but he was stopped as he was going for the door.**

**John gripped Sam’s shoulder and saw the surprised look on the boy’s face before he growled to Sam.**

**“You’re staying here. We’re talkin. Dean can do without you.”**

**John closed the door behind him and Sam had a fleeting glimpse of his older brother outside, headphones in his ears as he picked up the aluminum cans along the fence line. Sam was confused and started to ask what was going on, but John was taking him to the back room. To the master bedroom , Sam tripping over his sneakered feet as he was pushed into his father’s room. Sam stumbled and then righted himself, his balance reasserting itself as he gasped, “Dad? Dad? What’s wrong? What’d I do?”**

**“You’re good.”**

**John said the words curtly with grudging admiration.**

**“I never even knew…but you musta been laughing at me this whole time. Eating our food, sharing our tears, riding alongside us and hearing everything we ever planned. God.”**

**John grabbed Sam and closed his hands to either side of Sam’s head and squeezed so hard Sam reached up to grip the older man’s wrists and try to pull himself free. The hurt of the grip overrode Sam’s ingrained respect and obedience to John. Tears were sparking at Sam’s eyes as he shuddered.**

**“Dad? Dad…what…?”**

**John backhanded Sam, sending the boy reeling to the wall. A solid hit there before Sam was sliding down to the carpet. A rage was in John Winchester and he wanted to tear the boy apart, find that hidden center that was taunting him behind an innocent face and stomp it back to hell. He grabbed Sam’s ankle and felt like he was losing his mind. Sam sounded like a boy. Like any other boy that was being attacked for nothing. Scared and traumatized. But John had been a fool long enough. He pulled Sam up by his messy hair and threw him over the bed. He straddled Sam and his forearm over Sam’s throat and held him down, putting his weight behind the hold. He moved until his nose was almost touching Sam’s.**

**“I caught me a demon, Sammy. A real talkative one once I soaked him in holy water a few times. Peeled the skin right off of him. You know what he told me? Explained all about you. Told me why you were spared. Why my wife wasn’t. She was all used up, Sam. Bearing you. Mary…” John was crying now and wiped his eyes to his flannelled shoulder. “Mary… died because of you. That demon. Yellow Eyes… Yellow Eyes left our family with a gift. Left it with Mary and then came back with it. The bastard demon I skinned told me everything. How you have the blood of a demon. How he sees you… giving you these gifts. Just like I gave Dean the tricks of my trade, your daddy’s going to give gifts too. Some day. You’re going to be something else, Sam. But nothing of mine. You hear me? Your demon sire… somehow… raped or forced my Mary. Gave her you. Then he ripped her apart. My wife died so you could be born…”**

**Sam shrieked, the words hitting him like a rain of knives. He felt the images flash in his mind, the ten of swords card swimming to the surface of his mind as he bucked under John and screamed. It was a pained scream of denial, but John was not hearing it. He was not allowing Sam to be free of him. The hard punch to Sam’s jaw made the boy’s head snap to the side and then the rest? A painful blur. Sam was flipped over onto his belly and he was left there.**

**When Dean came home about an hour later, he shouldered his way into the door and saw his father sitting at the kitchen table, nursing some Jack Daniels. Dean was careful not to make a face at that. Even if it wasn’t even six o’clock yet. He started putting away the cold stuff before he asked, “Where’s Sammy?”**

**“We were sparring and now he’s sulking.” John picked up a folded piece of paper. “I need you to drive this package to Pastor Jim. He’s going to meet you at the Fairview Inn. The one off route 72. You remember the place?”**

**Dean sighed inside where it would not be seen as talking back. He accepted the slip of paper and muttered, “Need gas money.” His father tossed him a wad of cash and Dean caught it mid-air. “Care if I take Sammy with me? He likes seeing…-”**

**“Sam’s staying. You need to get going . I won’ forget to feed him. I am the dad here, remember?” John said it in that in between tone that meant he was ready for Dean to piss him off or ask too many questions. Eager to snap over it when Dean could just do what he was told already.**

**Dean nodded and still, went to check on Sam. John clenched his jaw, knowing Dean was checking on his little brother like he always did. There was no stopping that. Dean was still under the illusion Sam was family.**

**Dean looked in on his little brother but Sam was laying face down in his bed, the blinds drawn and the room dark.**

**“Sammy?”**

**Not hearing a change in Sam’s breathing, Dean leaned over him and kissed his temple, whispering by his ear.**

**“Be good, I’ll be back later tonight. Real late. Try to stay outta Dad’s hair.”**

**That was Dean speak for, Dad’s drunk. Don’t light his fuse. He waited but Sam was silent and Dean decided to let him sleep. He left the room and missed the soft little cry from Sam in his absence.**

**Sam pulled a pillow from Dean’s bed and held it close, curling around it and pressing his face so hard to the cotton to smother himself in the scent. Being closer and wishing he was brave enough to climb out the window and run until he miraculously caught up with Dean. Until his frantic hands were on the glossy black sides of the Impala and he could beg with Dean to listen to him. To please listen, and never never go home again. Sam cried himself out into Dean’s pillow, wondering how he could be a monster.**

**How he could be anything but Dean’s brother, John’s son. All his life he had been defined by the males that took care of him. The Winchesters? All we have is each other. How many times had Sam heard that? Enough to believe it. If he had his brother and father stripped away, he had nothing. He was nothing. Sam felt his belly and chest aching, concaving with his frightened sobs. He had never been hit that way before, like John was trying to beat something out of him. There were no drawback moves, his father’s eyes kind but resolute as he explained why Sam needed to guard his face, throat, belly. There was no fatherly concern. John hated him.**

**Sam drifted off into a wrung out sleep and he only awoke when John stumbled into his room. The next seventeen minutes was the breaking of Sam’s heart. The loss of his virginity. John pressed Sam down under him and used him, ripping into his body and muttering insensible, deranged things to the boy’s ear. Telling Sam he was his mother’s son now. His mother that whored around on her husband. Fucked a demon. Sam could do his mother’s work since he was fucking pathetic as a hunter, and didn’t THAT make sense now? Not wanting to kill his own kind.**

**Sam was lucky, in that he passed out from the fierce pain.**

**When Dean returned from meeting Pastor Jim and delivering the old book to their family friend, he was told to go ahead and set up rooms for them in the nearby town of Shelby. John thought they’d stayed long enough here. Besides, he told Dean, Sam was getting too attached to the place and that wasn’t going to do him any favors. They had to keep moving. Dean felt chagrined for his brother, but orders were orders. He slept a few hours on the living room couch to keep from disturbing Sam and then he was off to see about new housing.**

**Sam awoke the morning after and sat up in a painful mess. He patted over himself, finding nothing was broken but he felt like he was kicked inside out. He saw Dean’s bed was empty. Dean was not there, hadn’t been there. Sam made a terrified sound and rolled from his bed, falling to the floor. Had they left without him? He got to his feet on wobbly legs and went to the bathroom, not able to wait. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the light bruise on his jaw, the more colorful marks on his chest, his hips and back. Over his ass. Sam wanted to sink down and cry, but his devastated eyes burned with dryness. He had to go and see if he was alone. If John had … John? Sam realized he was thinking of his father as ‘Dad’ as John. Because there was no way his Dad would hurt him the way he did. Sam leaned over and threw up. He had no conscious thought of ‘I’m going to be sick’, he just was. Once he was done, he left the bathroom and walked down the hallway that seemed longer now. Endless and every step jolted up in his body painfully. He was not sure if he should be relieved to see a sober John or not.**

**John sat in the living room and looked up when Sam walked into the room looking like he was the one suffering. Cold blooded little bastard. John jerked his head at Sam and the boy started to move to the couch to sit, and then stopped. Interesting development.**

**“Get your ass sitting over there or I’ll PUT it over there.”**

**Sam moved then, his face pale under the shock of his dark hair. He sat gingerly on the couch and could barely handle it. He hurt. The word ‘hurt’ seemed to be the tempo counterpoint to his heartbeat. He lowered his burning eyes to the carpet.**

**John lit a new smoke and had to smoke half of it before he said a word. When he spoke, his voice was coolly conversational.**

**“Can’t just take you out like the others, Sam. Thought about it. Thought about it long and hard. But you might be useful. Already found one use for you. You want some Advil?”**

**Sam flinched but remained silent.**

**John did not mind that. For now.**

**“Dean’s attached to you. Still thinks you’re one of ours. It might break him to lose you right now… but eventually? It could look like an accident. You might even run away. We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we? For right now you’re going to be under my thumb. One false move from you and I’ll make you fear God, you hear me? You go where I tell you to go… and you never tell Dean a fucking word. If he knew about this, about what you did to his mother. What you are really? He would kill himself, Sam. He loves you so much. He could never look at you again…and I wouldn’t blame him. So it’s in your best interests to do exactly as I say. You’re going to learn to be a good hunter. You’re going to work at it until you bleed and then you’ll work some more… and whenever I want you? You’re going to take it. Make yourself needed around here, any way you can. Your best bet is your body because you’ve got shit for talent in anything you try. I see why now. There ain’t none of me in you except what I put there.”**

**Sam closed his eyes tightly and saw the horrible imagined vision of Dean turning away from him or hurting himself. Dean going cold and never wanting to see or touch him again because of this…thing… he was. Sam trembled and put his face in his hands, wanting to die.**

**John nodded and put out his expired smoke.**

**“Just so long as we understand each other.”**

**“Yes…sir.”**

**“Good, that’s good, Sam. Now get cleaned up. We’re moving again. I don’t have more time to waste on you right now.”**

**Sam opened his mouth to reply and felt soft fingers brush over his lips and a sleepy voice saying, “S’ok, Sammy…s’ok…bad dream…sleep…”**

**Dean was lying beside him, and that… memory that had come under the veil of dreaming, seemed so far away even as it was a ticking time bomb between them. Some day Dean would know. Sam slowed his breathing and kissed Dean’s fingers, wanting to draw him back, feel welcome touches. Love.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

  
Author's notes: Dean sees the signs of Sam's attack, confessions come.  


* * *

**The next day Dean awoke and looked at the light filtering through the thin curtains, gauging it had to be almost noon. He rubbed the heel of his hand to his eyes and then over the cockscomb of his hair, sending the spikes in more directions. He sat up and reached for his cigarettes, seeing Sam still curled beside him sleeping like the dead. Dean kept the line of his body touching Sam’s giving him a little comfort as he was sleeping. Even as he lit up his first smoke of the day, Dean was looking at the black lace-like overlay of Sam’s lashes to his cheeks. So beautiful. Maybe you weren’t supposed to think that of your own brother, but it did not change the facts. Sam was beautiful. Those moody eyes under elegant brows, almost hidden by his hair. High cheekbones accented by dimples that just begged to be kissed. His lips.**

**Hey now.**

**Dean made himself quit staring at Sam’s mouth and chided himself. He really needed to get laid. Sitting here with his morning glory, smoking and ogling his brother. But if Sam wasn’t his brother, an insidious voice whispered in his mind. Oh yeah. If Sam wasn’t his brother, Dean would have found a way into his pants by now. He would have turned one of their drinking brotherly fights into another form of contact sport. Seeing how good it was to work Sam, be worked in return. Push those limits you could never use on a girl. Seeing a man as pretty as any woman changed up your options right fast. Dean pulled the blankets up over his lap and denied himself even a passing squeeze. He could keep from jerking off at least. Until he was in the shower, he amended. Then it was fair game. Under the water he could soap his calloused hands and imagine it was Sam touching him, telling him to cum. Dean had a little shiver and then saw Sam’s eyes flash open.**

**“Mornin, Sammy.”**

**Sam heard the rusty aspect of Dean’s voice and attributed it to his cigarette, but something else was in Dean’s eyes. Something hot and electric, moving under the cool green surface like a shark slipping in and out of sight. Or he just wished. Sam smiled, half of his face still in the pillow, his chest to Dean’s side. He needed to get up before his body started really appreciating Dean’s proximity.**

**“Morning. Afternoon, looks like.”**

**Sam sat up and stretched, the move lifting the tshirt at his waist. He was surprised when he felt cool air touch his skin. His surprise gave way to almost panic when he heard Dean’s indrawn hiss of breath. Sam was up and out of the bed fast but Dean was not far behind.**

**“Sam? What the hell? What happened to you? Come here.”**

**“No.”**

**Sam stayed just out of reach and held up his hands to ward off Dean’s grabby paws. He searched his mind for something to say, not even sure what Dean had seen. He had not looked in the mirror last night, just glad to be with Dean and sleeping. Clean as he could be considering. Now his lack of attention was coming back to haunt him.**

**“Sam?”**

**Dean put out his cigarette, eyes saber sharp as he saw that hedging look in Sam’s eyes. Sam was one of the worst liars Dean had ever seen, at least to him. He moved closer to Sam and started taking up his space, invading it on purpose and not caring if his kid brother had some inches on him. He could still block and detain Sam.**

**“Sammy? Seriously. Start talking here. Let me look at you. You’re banged all to hell…”**

**Sam looked like he was having a nervous breakdown and that did not ease Dean’s mind. He reached out and slapped Sam’s deflective hand away, getting Sam’s wrist and pulling his brother close to him. Dean did not have to pull hard, Sam was coming to him like a sleepwalker. Dean’s free hand dropped and he slowly rolled up Sam’s old tshirt, seeing the perfection of his brother’s body. Seeing how it was marred. Bruises like dark purple smears of paint over that toned skin. Angry red scratches and as Dean gently turned Sam to the side, his green eyes zeroed in a crescent mark on Sam’s shoulder. A fucking bite mark. Why did that make Dean even angrier? He had a fine tremor running through him seeing the bite and saw Sam was shaking. All six foot and then some of Sam was shaking like a leaf. Dean traced a bruise on Sam’s spine and whispered to his baby brother.**

**“Who did this to you?”**

**Sam closed his eyes tightly and wished he had woken up first. Gotten dressed. Never ever showed Dean…this. He was not even sure what to say. What could he say?**

**“Maybe I like it, Dean.”**

**Dean blinked and his lips did that subtle twitch that some might mistake for the ghost of a smile, but it was far from that. His lashes dropped over his eyes and his voice sounded nearly sleepy.**

**“Really? Coz you don’t look like you had a good time, Sammy. Marks like these? From behind…”**

**Dean proved his point, standing behind Sam and reaching around him, his tanned hands moving over the marks, showing where hands had been placed, where Sam had been gripped and how. He was livid already and he knew if Sam was into this whole scene, he still might kill whoever did it for Sam. Whoever mounted his little brother and used him like this. Whoever did it that wasn’t him. He closed his eyes at that treacherous thought, hardly able to reconcile with wanting his own hands on Sam. His bite. God. But Dean also knew Sam did not have the look of someone that had gotten laid. Sam looked like he had managed to walk away from a car crash, not a tryst.**

**Sam shivered, he was filled with dread over Dean’s discovery but alongside that fear a base desire was running. Dean was holding him, Sam’s chest to Dean’s back and it felt better than it should have. He felt his cock stirring and filling with a rush of hot blood, eager. He bowed his head and swallowed hard.**

**“It’s none of your business, Dean. Drop it, alright? If I don’t follow you around to every skank you’re banging, maybe you can leave it alone if I do something you don’t like.”**

**The older brother gave into a small piece of temptation and brushed his lips over the bite on Sam’s skin, wanting to cover it with his own, eradicate the mark with his own oral brand.**

**“You’re my business, Sam. And you DO give me crap over the skanks, thanks very much. I should remember.”**

**Dean felt the shiver run over Sam from the little kiss and wanted to suck that skin, see how Sam reacted. But this was not right. It did not feel right. Dean was a healthy sexual creature and yeah, he took it where he could- but that didn’t mean he didn’t know all about vibe. The feel you got from a fuck-buddy or a definite maybe. Exhilaration. Expectation, and then the bam moment when it felt so good you didn’t mind how dirty you were. Sam wasn’t carrying any of that vibe on him. Sam was so tense and Dean could practically smell… fear. He thinned his lips over his teeth and whispered close to Sam’s neck.**

**“I’m not stupid, Sam. If this was your scene… and you kept it from going too far, I wouldn’t say shit. But you can’t let strangers do this. Not games like these. You know that. I won’t believe you don’t know it. You’re a smart boy. This…”**

**Dean stopped talking and he shook his head. Shook his head like trying to cast out a thought through sheer will. No. No way. He turned Sam in his hands, amazed his brother was just allowing it. Not shoving back or trying to get away. Like he could. Sam could try. But Sam was pliant in his hands and the look on his little brother’s face? Acceptance. Grim anticipation of something really bad coming down. Dean knew the look, had worn it himself enough to know it. Sometimes you fought so hard, scrabbling for any handhold and not wanting to admit defeat, everyone had a breaking point. When you felt like you couldn’t fight any more. Just didn’t have it in you. Seeing that feeling emblazoned across Sam’s face, Dean’s mind was sharply clicking away. Who Sam was with last night. How many times Sam spent time with Dad and then was so withdrawn. Quiet. Hiding. Oh Jesus.**

**Watching thoughts spill across Dean’s face, Sam felt like he was falling down while standing up. Realization was forming in Dean’s eyes and Sam wanted to stall it. Erase it. The truth was never going to set Samuel Winchester free. He was at a loss and then his hands lifted and he was holding Dean’s conflicted face in his hands. Sam slammed his mouth over Dean’s, a shocked gurgle coming from Dean before Sam’s tongue was eating the sound. He pressed close to Dean, catching his brother by surprise. He ravenously went at Dean’s mouth, not letting go of Dean’s head until he felt the tentative mouth moving against his. Confused, hot, seeking, Dean kissed him back but then seemed to change his mind. Dean’s hands came up between them and he pushed Sam back, shaking his head hard. Dean’s mouth was swollen from the stolen kiss, glossy and pink.**

**“Sam…!”**

**Sam was panting for breath and sank to his knees on the carpet. Tears filled his eyes as he croaked out.**

**“Please Dean…please…I am begging you… please… let me… I’ll show you. Let me show you. You can have me. You can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. I want to. Please…”**

**The words curdled Dean’s lust into a cold hard pain in his belly. He breathed in and then closed his raging eyes. Sam’s taste was still in his mouth, urgent, scared- sweet. Dean sat heavily to the bed behind him.**

**“You and…Dad?”**

**Sam wanted to die. The way Dean rejected him, cast aside all Sam had to offer, the only thing he was good for. Dean was disgusted by him. Dean did not even want to kiss him and it was the easiest thing. Sam was not bluffing. He would let Dean fuck him into oblivion but… no. Dean knew he was used. Dirty. Sam hugged himself and a shuddery sob left his lips. All his work covering it up and now the past was blazing between them. The present looming and threatening. He nodded hard, just once. He could still turn this around. He had to. He could lose Dean over a moment’s carelessness.**

**“Please Dean… don’t say anything…”**

**“WHAT?”**

**Dean’s exclamation made Sam’s head jerk up. Dean was livid. His pupils were dilating as Sam watched, the fine green fire shimmering with threat.**

**“Don’t…say… anything? Are you fucking stoned? Are you serious? Oh wait. Am I supposed to believe you want this? Wanted him? Like that? Yeah. You look fucking thrilled about it.”**

**Dean was on his feet and pulling on a pair of jeans over his boxers as Sam lunged up as well. He caught Dean as his older brother was reaching for his sawed off shotgun.**

**“Dean…what the hell…! You can’t…”**

**“Can and will.”**

**Dean cocked the gun and pushed Sam back, looking like he was swallowing glass.**

**“You tell me. You tell me right now how long? Sam… talk to me or I swear to God I’m just going to start shooting…”**

**Sam hugged himself hard and moved to stand in front of the door, pleading with his eyes.**

**“A while. Dean. I know how it seems…”**

**“Don’t lie to me.”**

**Dean grabbed Sam’s shoulder and pushed him away from the door. He guided Sam to his bed and growled.**

**“You stay here. I’ll ask him myself…”**

**“NO!”**

**Sam sounded so desperate it lanced right through Dean like a punch never could have. Sam was beside himself as he gripped Dean’s jacket and looked up to him, talking as fast as he could, the words running over themselves.**

**“No, Dean…no…he’ll…no…please… Dean… please… stay with me. Don’t leave me. Don’t hate me. Dean… I can’t… I can’t run any more… I can’t be without you… I’ll die. I will die. Please… Dean… you can’t…”**

**Dean’s shocked expression melted into abject confusion. He covered Sam’s clenched fists with his own, that hold not lessening in Dean’s faded tshirt, like Sam was holding on for dear life here.**

**“Sammy… I’m not leaving you…”**

**“But you will.”**

**Sam gasped the words on a sob, his eyes closing so tight it looked painful.**

**“You’ll hate me, Dean. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry… I never knew. I never knew. I’m so sorry… all this time… and I could have told you…but you were all I had…all I loved and how… how could I just cut you loose? I tried. I tried Stanford… thinking you’d give up or I’d forget how…much I need you… but nothing works. Nothing. I was so scared… you deserve to know… and I never…”**

**Dean was shaking his head and his need to punch holes in his father was being blanketed by seeing Sam having a nervous breakdown. He lifted one hand and covered Sam’s lips, feeling them tremble to his palm.**

**“Sam. Shhh… come on, Sammy… listen to me. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not ever going to hate you. There’s nothing you could do. You could fucking ice me and I’d think…hey, at least it was Sammy. No, don’t look at me like that…I meant it in a nice way. Sam… tell me. For the love of God tell me what you’re talking about… I’m in the dark here. Tell me… I swear to you, on my soul, I’m not going to hate you or leave you.”**

**Dean sounded so serious, so final. Like he never meant anything more. Sam blinked past the tears and bowed his head. Beat. He just did not know what else he could do. He started whispering to Dean, telling Dean slowly, stiltedly about that day when everything changed. Dean was so quiet Sam had to reach over and hold his brother’s hand to know he was still there. Sam was not opening his eyes for this. He could not handle seeing Dean’s revulsion or dawning awareness. Knowing Dean’s promises were going to melt like morning fog to the relentless sun when it was all revealed.**

**Dean was wooden while Sam’s husky drained voice was recounting a living nightmare. One Dean had been on the edges of. Just the edges. Never close enough to do anything but not be there. He clenched his teeth so hard it hurt and his rage burned deep. He listened to every word, sliding them like bullets into a clip. Dean was not sure what the demon blood was going to do to Sam, but he knew who his brother was. He knew Sam. Raised Sam. Cared for him and loved him like no one else. NO ONE else. Dean was silent during the final details, Sam telling him about the rapes. Over the years. Those ‘useful’ moments. Being told that was all he was good for. Dean wanted to throw up. He wanted to burn John’s room down around him. He swallowed it down and then when Sam was silent, Dean looked at his brother intensely.**

**“Stay. Here.”**

**Dean stood up and Sam started to follow but Dean shoved him back, just enough that Sam was back on the bed.**

**“I mean it, Sam. I love you. You’re my brother. Mine. There’s nobody ever going to hurt you without hearing from me. Or dying. Stay here.”**

**Sam watched Dean slam out of the room and shivered, not sure what was going to happen now. What John might say. Dean always listened to John. Worshiped the elder Winchester. What if Dean never came back?  
**


	7. Chapter 7

  
Author's notes: Dean goes after John, and tells his father the score. The boys have a talk en route to wherever Dean's taking them.  


* * *

**Dean was in no mood to knock. He kicked the door in and as it shrieked in protest, he was inside John’s hotel room. Empty room. John’s bag was gone, only an empty bottle on the table showing he had ever been there. Dean walked around the room all the same, checking the bathroom and then standing there fuming. He was ready now. He hated to wait for shit, especially something a long time coming.**

**Sammy.**

**Just thinking of it. Sam being hurt by John all this time and Dean always choking back whatever lies or excuses he was given. Sam trying to run off to college and then Dean dragging him back to the life. Not knowing what he was offering his brother up to. On a fucking silver platter. Over and over again. Dean lifted his fist to his brow and ground it there, thinking it was a special flavor of hell to be too late on this one. He pulled his cellphone from his pocket and dialed his father’s number, waiting through three rings before John answered.**

**John sounded casual as he came on the line, the sound of his truck in the background. On the road again.**

**“Dean. What’s up?”**

**“I know.”**

**Dean said the two words with a vibration of the anger eating at him.**

**“You know ‘what’?” John replied, almost amused by Dean being cryptic. Usually that was more John’s type of thing, when the situation demanded it.**

**Dean’s teeth sank to his cheek and he responded as calmly as he could.**

**“I know what you’ve done to Sam. What you’ve been doing.”**

**“You don’t know a damn thing, Dean.” John curtly came back. “You think he’s something he’s not. He’s a monster, Dean. He’s made up to look like your brother, someone to care about and take care of but if you knew…-”**

**“You think there is anything about Sam that makes him not mine to take care of? There isn’t. Doesn’t exist. Whatever you want to say doesn’t change anything. Do you know… do you know who I am?”**

**John’s eyes flickered and he felt a slight chill come across the wires, like Dean was right there in front of him but not looking at him like he ever had before. There was malice in Dean’s tone.**

**“Who are you, Dean? You tell me. Because I know you’re my son…-”**

**“I’m Sam’s brother.”**

**Dean interjected and there was a finality to his words.**

**“You hurt my brother. Hurt him bad, inside and out. There’s no other way for you to go, Dad. You crossed a line you can’t take back.”**

**John’s face molded into a worried frown and he could not believe what he was hearing. The words between what Dean was saying.**

**“Dean…-”**

**“You can tell me where you’ll be…or you can keep moving… but I will find you. I’ll find you and then you’re going to pay for this. For every time I wasn’t there and you …touched… Sam? You’re dead to me. All that’s left is making it official.”**

**“Dean, you’re pissed off… and I get that. You don’t know what…”**

**“Demon blood. Heard it. Got it. Do you want to meet me somewhere or are we playing this out?”**

**John cut off the phone-call and Dean slowly closed his cell, thinking of the moment he would be seeing his father again. It helped cool the need for blood in him. He was going to get it.**

**Dean walked back to the hotel room he was sharing with Sam and when he re-entered the room he saw the relieved slump to his brother’s shoulders. Dean frowned and picked up his bag, throwing it to the bed.**

**“Get your stuff together. We’re taking off.”**

**Sam could not smell blood and he had not heard a gun shot. His eyes were questioning as Dean impatiently tossed him his own pack.**

**“Dean… what did you do?”**

**Dean paused in stuffing dirty clothes in his bag, seeing the question Sam was asking and not asking at the same time. Was John down the hall dead and covered in congealing blood? He wished.**

**“Nothing yet. He’s on the move. Just taking off and going to do his own thing same as always. But it’s not the same as always anymore.”**

**Sam was pale as he started mechanically putting his bag together, a wet towel going in as well as he was barely able to pay attention to what he was doing. He might have packed a pillow but Dean was already nudging him out the door by his shoulder. Dean dropped off their key at the office and then they were leaving. The Impala screaming as rubber burned over blacktop. Dean was so angry it was coloring everything he did. How he smoked his cigarettes, the loudness of the music. Sam leaned his head to the window and let it ride for about three hours of interstate before reaching over to turn down the ear-rending heavy metal station, cutting into Otep. Dean glanced over and Sam cleared his throat, a little nervous.**

**A lot had happened in one morning. Confessing to Dean. Dean’s mouth under his own and the things he offered Dean, just to be turned down. Not harshly but definitely turned down.**

**“Dean… about this morning…”**

**“Which part?”**

**Sam closed his eyes and then blushed, turning towards the window.**

**“Never mind.”**

**Dean sighed and decided to be a little more approachable. If anyone had some crap bottled up, it was Sam. Sam had collected things not to tell or say. Dean considered a moment before he pulled over, off the interstate into a rest area. It would give them a minute to talk and decide where to stop to eat. He could tell Sam where they were going. Important equalizing things. It was no time to exaggerate the way Sam felt about himself and his value. Dean wished he had his father’s neck in his hands right now. Just crushing the breath out of John. He parked the car under a low hanging group of trees and then got out. He sat on the hood and waited for Sam to join him. Sitting there, Dean watched the first flickers of fireflies and just let it be good for a minute.**

**“This morning. Go on. I’m listening. I just… it was a long bad morning. Not all of it was bad…”**

**Dean was sure he was mishandling this again. Sam was listening to Dean and knew his brother was snagging, stopping to try and think out what he was saying like Sam might be made of glass.**

**“I kissed you.”**

**The three words were simple and should have been easy to say but Sam still had to work to get them out.**

**“Dean, I’m sorry if… if I made things worse.”**

**Whatever he had been expecting, that wasn’t it. Sam wanting to talk about the kiss was… surprising. Dean caught his brother’s worried gaze and reached over, cupping Sam’s jaw. Sam was so still, and Dean read the vulnerability in Sam’s eyes like a beacon. Drawing him in. Dean’s fingers moved slowly over the rough stubble on Sam’s jaw, realizing he had hustled Sam out of the hotel so fast Sam couldn’t shave like he did every morning. He felt that precious hollow under Sam’s jaw, stroking the throb of his brother’s pulse.**

**“I didn’t hate the kiss, Sammy. Just why you were doing it. No, shut up. Listen to me. There’s nothing I’d like more, right now, than showing you how much I’d to kiss you. Thing is, it’s not the right time. Or reason. You don’t owe me, Sam. There’s nothing you have to do to prove to me I need you around. I need you. Period. I love you. But you’re not my property…-”**

**“What if I want to be?”**

**Sam turned his face to Dean’s palm, kissing the scratchy battle- nicked skin and licking to taste the hints of his brother. His tilted eyes shimmered to Dean’s and he drew a shaky breath.**

**“Tell me you want me.”**

**Dean tightened his hold on Sam’s jaw, feeling prickles of heat run up and down his arm. He dropped his eyes to Sam’s mouth, dangerous thoughts pounding through his blood.**

**“After.”**

**Sam grimaced in confusion, surprised when Dean pulled his hand away. He saw how Dean shifted his hips, revealing Dean was not unfazed by their exchange. He stared at Dean questioningly.**

**“You think I just kissed you because I was afraid you’d leave me. Is that it?”**

**“I know that’s why.”**

**Dean held up a hand.**

**“Maybe not all of it, but enough that it matters. You were scared. I get it, Sammy. I would do anything for you, but I won’t let you do just anything for me. Not buying me off with your body. I want more than that from you. You deserve more than that. You’re more than that. After I take care of… Dad… then we can talk again. About what we want.”**

**Sam’s face clouded and he laced his fingers through Dean’s on the hood. He was glad Dean did not pull away or say how needy he was. Sam knew it. Felt it. He needed Dean so badly.**

**“You’re going to kill him. Are you sure about that? Have you thought about it? It’s not like you can take it back. If he’s dead, he’s dead. You love him, Dean. All your life you’ve looked up-…”**

**“Stop.” Dean held up a hand like the words hurt, and they did. He slid off the front of the car and paced back and forth in front of Sam, head bent as he looked at the ground. “I know what he was to me. I can’t think about it right now. Because almost everything I ever thought was important has a real shaky foundation right now.”**

**Sam felt awash with shame and regret hearing the pain in Dean’s voice. Confident, reckless, warrior Dean was sounding a little lost. Sam pulled Dean to him, one hand going to the back of Dean’s shirt before he was hugging Dean from behind. Sam’s knees closed to frame Dean’s hips, strong arms wrapped around his brother. He kissed the side of Dean’s throat, feeling it the moment Dean decided not to pull away from him, allow himself to be held.**

**“It’s not all wrong. Not everything, Dean. There’s you and me. What we’ve learned together, the people we’ve saved… there’s good in this too. Please don’t tear yourself down.”**

**“You too.” Dean leaned back, resting his shoulders to Sam and wishing he knew the magic words to give Sam back what John had taken from him. “We’ll get through this, Sam. Then we’ll see what’s on the other side.”**

**“So where are we going?”**

**“Tucson.”**

**“Why Tucson?”**

**Dean smiled the questions, that was the Sam he knew and loved.**

**“Because there’s a hunter’s bar there. It’s neutral ground with information for sale. It’s where I’m starting.”**

**“Dean…”**

**“Every hunt has a starting point. I was better to him than he deserved. He knows I’m coming.”**

**“You mean he knows we’re both coming.”**

**“No.”**

**Dean pulled away from Sam and turned to look back at him, a hand to either side of Sam, arms braced to the car.**

**“Just me. No other way. It’s how it has to be. I’m not negotiating.”**

**Sam drew back at his brother’s bossy tone and glared.**

**“You told the man that taught you everything about hunting that you’re gunning for him and you think I’m hanging back?”**

**“He didn’t teach me everything. There’s plenty I learned my damn self, on my own or with you. I tried to give him an out to make it quick. That was all I gave him. Warning or no warning, the end’s going to be the same.”**

**Sam saw the resolute set to Dean’s jaw and asked, “You know I can’t live without you, right?”**

**“You won’t have to.”**

**Dean kissed Sam’s cheek and smiled.**

**“Have a little faith in me, Sammy. You think I’m going to bite it when I’m so close to proving to you why I’m never lonely long?”**

**“Jerk.”**

**Sam laughed though and blushed, his cheeks prickling with the rush of blood. But when Dean leaned in and licked over his ear before breathing ‘Bitch’? Sam thought he might just cream himself.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

  
Author's notes: Dean secrets Sam away, and begins his hunt.  


* * *

**En route to the roadhouse, the brothers maintained an easy quiet. Sam was watching Dean from the corner of his eyes, not willing to look away and possibly miss a sign of what his brother was thinking. Dean was good at the poker face, a lock down of his thoughts that locked Sam out as surely as a steel door. Sam mused that Dean was not necessarily doing it on purpose, but the outcome was the same. Sam had no idea if Dean was considering how monumental a choice he was making. How big of a mistake it might be. The risk in tracking their father. Dean’s father. Dean’s idol. Dean took his cellphone out and typed a text message, the angle of the phone keeping the message private and Sam knew if he asked, Dean would give him some bullshit answer. Sam decided not to even go there, or they’d be arguing in no time flat. Sam rustled through the glove box and took out a folded over bag of gummi bears, eating them while he listened to Dean singing under his breath. Sam was a little in love with the way Dean’s eyelashes left a shadow over his cheekbones. Those striking green eyes turned his way and Sam coughed, looking back out the window.**

**“Sorry.”**

**Dean edged up an eyebrow, wondering what Sam was apologizing for. With everything being crazy as hell, the list was endless.**

**“You need to stop apologizing. Wait for real shit to happen and then… lay it on with the sorries. We’re almost there. Steak and potatoes. Beer. Focus on the things that make life worth living.”**

**Sam’s belly made interested sounds at the mention of real food. He stretched out as best he could and let the rest of the ride go in silence. Listening to the clip-clip sound of the tires going down the highway. He wondered how he was going to broach the topic again of what Dean seemed to want to do. They crossed the Arizona state lines and it was soon after that they were pulling into the dark lot of the roadhouse. Getting out of the car, Sam fell into step with Dean, following his brother’s stride into the dilapidated building. It might not look like much from the outside, and the house lights were always low- but this place did it’s own kind of business. They just tended to discourage your average tourists on principle.**

**The brothers slid into a corner table and took off their jackets, looking around and not trying to hide it. A bar full of hunters fully expected to be eyeballed, assessed and remembered. By other hunters. That was why the place was neutral ground. Any grudges would have to be seen to further down the road. Dean walked to the bar and leaned his arms to the scarred wood, nodding in minimal greeting to the whiskered man that came over to meet him. Obviously ZZ Top was missing a band member. Dean held out a hand and smiled, “How’s it going, Verne?”**

**“Going well.” Verne accepted Dean’s hand and nodded to Sam as well where the taller brother was sitting. “How’re you doing, Dean? You and Sam on a job?”**

**“Yeah.” Dean rubbed over his jaw, not lying more than he had to. “We are hungry too. Coupla baked potatoes… steaks, two for him, one for me. Can I get a picture of Rolling Rock?”**

**Verne poured the beer and gave it to Dean, along with two glasses, one nestled into the other. “Have your grub by shortly.”**

**The older man pretended not to see when Dean poured the beer into the glasses and dropped a small packet of powder into the unchipped glass. Winchesters were their own breed, that was for sure. Best to give them room and hope things turned out. Besides, everyone knew Dean thought Sam got up extra early every day to hang the sun. There was no way Dean was poisoning his kid brother.**

**Dean cradled the pitcher to his body and held the glasses, going back to his table. He handed Sam his beer and then deeply quaffed his own. Sam was not as exuberant in drinking, but Dean knew he would be. It might just take a bit.**

**“Sam, Verne’s bringing some food over.”**

**“Do I know Verne?”**

**“You might’ve been too little.”**

**Dean shrugged. He recalled a tiny Sam that used to cling to him and hide his little apple-cheeked face around strangers. The Sam that sucked the back of his hand when he was nervous and fell over, chipping a tooth, trying on their father’s boots while still in a diaper. All those snapshot visions overlaid the young man sitting before Dean, a patina of love and devotion that added up to all things Sam.**

**Their food arrived and they dug in. Dean watched Sam and saw the level in his brother’s glass going down as Sam consumed his meal with a fervor he reserved for a good cut of red meat. Sam was so not making it to dessert. Dean waited and when Sam swayed a little in his seat, Dean pushed aside his own empty plate. He leaned over the table and took Sam’s shoulder, pulling him up from his seat. Sam wobbled on his legs like he’d only just gotten them, looking to Dean with suspicion in his glittering eyes.**

**“Dean?Whadjudo?”**

**“Call me Dr. Feelgood, Sammy. Just helping you relax, is all. Come on, legs, let’s get you some fresh air.”**

**Dean held Sam to his side, taking some of his brother’s weight on him, an arm strong around Sam’s long torso. Despite the circumstances? It felt good to be holding Sam this tight, imagining maybe he was taking all this home to throw in his bed. Explore at his leisure. He frowned over the course of his thoughts because he did not need to be mind-sexing Sam right now. Wasn’t the time for it. He walked out the doors of the roadhouse and saw the weary hang-dog look from the man waiting on him.**

**Bobby opened the door of his truck on the passenger side, helping to stuff Sam’s unconscious body inside. He saved the questions until he shut the door, closing in the knocked out Winchester.**

**“You want to tell me what’s going on, Dean?”**

**“Depends how much you want to know. I messaged you, asked you to come watch over Sam. I mean really watch him. Keep him until I come back…-”**

**“I know, I know.”**

**Bobby held up his hands, his eyes almost hidden by the bill of his cap pulled low on his brow. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to choose his words carefully.**

**“This got something to do with your daddy?”**

**Dean’s eyes cut to him so sharply that Bobby nearly felt the slice. A muscle worked at Dean’s jaw and he lowered his chin, dead stare intent on the older hunter.**

**“Maybe.”**

**Bobby was not quite following this scene. Dean wanting Sam practically on lock down. The stony silences from a young man that usually flashed a pirate smile between smart ass comments. He reached over and took Dean’s shoulder.**

**“Is John in some serious trouble, Dean? You need my help? Even watching Sam, there’s plenty I can do for…-”**

**“He is in trouble. With me.”**

**Dean nodded tightly, the simple gesture speaking volumes about his intentions.**

**“He ever tell you anything strange about Sammy, Bobby?”**

**Bobby’s eyes went to the cab of his truck where Sam was slumped to the door, conked out. He shook his head.**

**“No. Not anything aside from you know… Mary dying over him. Why?”**

**Because you just saved your own life. Dean silently answered. By not knowing what was happening and never taking part in hurting Sam. He released a breath he had been holding. It would be painful to kill Bobby and he was relieved he did not need to.**

**“Family business, that’s about all I can say. When Sam wakes up, tell him I’m coming back for him and I’m sorry it had to be this way.”**

**The resolution in Dean’s tone made Bobby catch his arm as he started to walk away.**

**“Dean… if there’s bad blood between you and John…”**

**“Don’t.”**

**Dean pulled free of Bobby’s grasp.**

**“You said you’d do whatever you could to help me, Bobby. That means you take Sam somewhere safe. Only you know. You keep him there until I call you. That’s what I want. I care about you, I really do… but the last place you want to be… is between me and… my father. Don’t put yourself there, don’t make it an issue.”**

**Bobby heard the underlying plea to Dean’s words and it gave him a cold chill inside, like someone was walking over his grave. Dean meant to kill John. It was a lightning clap in Bobby’s mind because all his life? Dean had been John’s shadow. Raised up to do his father’s will and excel in a life meant to break people down.**

**“I’ll keep Sam safe. He’s not going anywhere. You got my word. If … if John calls…”**

**“I’m not saying you can’t warn your friend if you see fit, but trust me, he’s expecting me. I’ll see you soon, Bobby. Do right by Sam.”**

**Dean turned and walked away, heading to the car before he could give in and take Sam along. Now that he knew what Sam had suffered, he could not help but feel he only trusted himself to take care of his brother. How many times had he assumed Sam was fine because their father was there? How many bruises and scratches had Dean overlooked because, hell, didn’t he have plenty on himself? Maybe the bruises on Sam’s skin were easily explained away, but the ones set deep in those catlike eyes? Not so much.**

**Bobby Singer watched Dean’s form until the young man was gone, his monster of a car pulling out like hell was firing the engine. He sighed and turned to get in his truck. He had not missed what Dean was saying with the words ‘Do right by Sam.’ The unspoken bit was ‘Do right by Sam, or fall by my hand.’ Bobby knew shorthand when he heard it.**

****


	9. Chapter 9

  
Author's notes: Dean and John meet to air their grievances.  


* * *

**His head felt stuffed with cotton. Sam rolled over slowly and his face was in a folded up blanket. He was still as he realized he had pins and needles in his arms from lying on them, his legs bare. What the hell? He sat up and looked over himself, relieved to have his boxers on. T-shirt. His own t-shirt, thank God. He sniffed over himself and shook his head. He needed a shower. He smelt like beer and smoke. Where was Dean? If Sam had gotten a little drunk, that usually meant Dean was all out soused and pickled. But there was no tangle of limbs beside him and ,when he checked, not on the floor either. Then he started to remember. The roadhouse. Dean. John. Goddamnit. Sam got out of the bed he had never seen before and patted over himself, checking for any injuries. Nothing but that feeling he could fall back asleep and be out for a few more hours. He walked out of the small room and saw the hallway before him, a lot of girls on cars or trucks. Some on motorcycles just to change it up for the sake of composition, Sam was sure. He heard strains of Hank Williams Jr. in the air, Whiskey Bent and Hellbound. The smell of frying eggs and bacon. Sam followed the crackling sound and saw Bobby Singer.**

**“Where’s Dean?”**

**Bobby looked over at the rasped question, seeing a mountain of disgruntled Winchester glaring at him.**

**“Good morning to you too, son. How many eggs you want?”**

**Sam helped himself to the coffee and asked, “Can I assume this isn’t laced with anything?”**

**The older man snorted a laugh and then he was putting a greasy breakfast on the table.**

**“I know I didn’t do dishes AND cook so you could be bitchy to me. Sit down. Eat. I think you already know where Dean is and why.”**

**Temper in his eyes, Sam sank to down to sit at the table. He drank his coffee heavy with sugar and watched Bobby with wondering eyes. Had Dean… told? Had he just spilt everything to Bobby while Sam was in Courtney Love mode? Would Dean do that? If he did, it meant…Bobby knew and Sam might just rather die than see horror or judgment from a man that often acted as a surrogate father. He hunched his shoulders, dark head bent as he tried the offering set before him. It wasn’t half bad. Beat his and Dean’s cooking by a long shot. Sam shoveled the food into his mouth on autopilot, not even sure how to ask what Bobby knew. The damnedest thing was Bobby sitting there eating and watching him in return.**

**“I can’t stay here.”**

**Bobby lifted both brows and mopped up some yolk with a wedge of toast, thinking he was going to have a super next few days. Could be longer, depending.**

**“Afraid you have to.”**

**“Have to?”**

**Sam scoffed and then shook his head.**

**“No offense, Bobby but I think I can get past you.”**

**“You’d think so…”**

**Bobby replied and smiled.**

**“But the thing about hunters is we’re always learning, Sam. Techniques. Tricks. It’s part of it. You see something that works, might as well stick with it.”**

**“What do you…?”**

**Sam looked down at his plate and swore viciously.**

**“Fuck….”**

**Bobby shrugged. “Nothing too bad for you, just enough you won’t have the reflexes you’re used to and you sure as hell won’t be knocking me over. So you can settle down. I don’t want to padlock you, so take it easy on my sense of hospitality. Eat your toast.”**

**__________________________________________________________**

**It was not the same without Sam. Dean’s eyes wandered to his right often, like Sam was going to be there, because wasn’t Sam always right next to him? The long drives were not nearly as long when you could pick a fight with your brother or ask him twenty questions guaranteed to make him blush or tell you what a manwhore you were. Those little things that meant so much. Things had to be this way though. There was no way in hell Dean was dragging Sam along for what he had in mind. Sam was not going to stand there and hear whatever John was planning to say with his remaining breath. Dean could not allow it. More abuse. It would be too. John never wanted anyone having the last word and he could be drawn and quartered while managing to sling some more verbal shit Sam’s way. Protecting Sam from John’s words wasn’t much, but it was all Dean had to give. He could spare Sam the end, if not all that led up to it.**

**Dean’s hands tightened on the wheel, feeling it juddering under his grip. He was not without his own flaws and he hated when it was so quiet he had time to be in his head, seeing the similarities between himself and his father. All those things Dean held in his mind as absolute law? Came from the Psalms of John Winchester and no other. But John broke that covenant of blood when he brutalized Sam. Over and over. Dean wanted to fucking cry. He wanted to scream into his hands and beat the whole world bloody on Sam’s behalf. He wanted blood. Maybe that wasn’t right. Could be it made him a hypocrite, since he meant to kill John. So be it. Dean would take the consequences. He would accept the debt on his soul or wherever it went, but he would not let Sam’s rapist go free. He would not act as if it never happened. Or just threaten John. A slap on the wrist? No.**

**If Dean ever had a moment where he grew tired behind the wheel or wondered if he would ever catch up with John, all he had to do was remember Sam’s voice telling him what had happened. Those soft and guilty words, the fear coating Sam like a sick halo. Sammy being told Dean would hate him. Leave him. Cast him aside like refuse. The sight of Sam’s anguish, those lips pressing to his in a begging so clear it tore at Dean. No, there was no ‘other way’ now. He pressed the gas pedal down and hurtled deeper into the night.**

**Chasing after John Winchester was not an easy job, but Dean found himself ready for it. Primed. Like a wolf that caught the scent of a flagging, wounded deer. Little red heat marks that showed where his prey had been, what cover they chose. John half wanted to see him, Dean knew. John would not completely allow himself to believe Dean could or would end him. Not Dean. Dean was not stupid. He could tell when his father had just left a site, able to access different hunts in progress using Sam’s laptop. Hunters checked in and even if John Winchester did not report all of his kills or finds? Those cases would suddenly close on the sites, labeled as ‘inactive’. To Dean that was like a row of breadcrumbs. He followed relentlessly. John might pretend he was just working, but they both knew better. John was trying to give Dean time to come to terms with what he knew. Waiting for Dean to realize his father had to have a reason. Was right. Always right.**

**It came as no surprise to Dean that six days into his search, he saw a bulky black truck parked outside a warehouse. The lot was lit by a single streetlight, watery orange light giving the building an air of weariness. Like it was just as tired of being there as everyone was of looking at it. Dean parked at the edge of the lot and got out of his car, placing his feet in silent steps over the gravel. He paid a visit to John’s truck and slashed the tires, knowing it never hurt to do those little things that meant so much.**

**Dean knew how to sneak up on someone, did a better job of it than ‘block the sun out’ Sam. This was just the first time he had ever hunted knowing he was set to kill his father. He held his gun loosely in one hand, the other reaching out to lightly trace the walls of the warehouse. He listened so hard he could hear the cicadas and night breeze, a stray tree branch, creaking side door. Ah. Door. Dean avoided the door and found a broken delivery ramp instead. He was crouched and walking up the ramp and into the loading dock when he heard a rattling scream from inside. He paused, belly tight as he tried to gauge what he was hearing. He reached back under his jacket to the gun tucked into the back of his jeans. The one with the silver bullets. Never went anywhere without leaded and unleaded.**

**Slipping into the desolate back of the warehouse, Dean scanned from side to side and up, making sure nothing was hanging over his head. Nothing worse than something slimy dropping down on you. He pressed his back to the wall, careful not to scrape as he kept moving. Since he was all keyed up, Dean should have expected to be bowled into. Knocked over. He came up swinging, catching the fucker in the face and feeling teeth scrape his fist. Nice. He did not have time for this. Unfortunately, vampires did not always care about your schedule. Dean tried to keep it quiet, tussling with the bloodsucker and managing not to be dinner or a casualty as it- he- tried to escape. Too bad for this guy, he looked like he might not have been a half bad person, since you could not be all evil and wear a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Still, kill or be killed was the order of the night. Dean used a busted up fan blade to do the deed, hacking and cleaving until the thing didn’t have a twitch left to give. Wiping his bloody face to his sleeve, Dean rose and retrieved his gun, glad it had not skittered far or under some of the old machinery. He could hear a struggle not far off and made his way towards it. He knew who it was.**

**John was wrestling with a real snake of a vamp, her body contorting like her skeletal structure was more of an idea than it was a rule. She whipped her pale face at him so fast he was doing his best to hold her at bay and still ward off her boyfriend. Her mate was missing a leg but that didn’t stop him from trying to grab John’s leg and pull him down for a regenerative drink.**

**There was a loud roar and then another, John’s ears ringing as the vampire on the floor had its head severed from its neck, by a rain of bullets. A very messy kind of decapitation, but John wasn’t complaining. Especially when Dean snagged the female vampire and drug her back, pretty much doing her the same way. Savage and exacting, Dean executed the vampires without a flinch or grimace of distaste. That was John’s boy. His son. John had been clearing the nest when a few more vamps had shown up, more than he expected. He looked up to Dean and slowly stood, stilling when he saw the gun leveled on him.**

**“Dean. Just in time… not bad…”**

**Dean’s hand did not waver. He met John’s eyes and felt a coldness in him that escaped his own experience. Dean’s realm of understanding was challenged when it came to how much he hated his father.**

**“You think I killed them for you? I killed them for me, to get them off what I came for.”**

**John’s dark eyes flashed with pain and he held his hands up, showing he was not armed. He stared at Dean and wanted to find that connection they had always had. The understanding. The belief that their life was a quest, and they were chosen to be executioners of demons and monsters. They were warriors, and nothing came between them.**

**“I know what you’re thinking, Dean. I can imagine what he told you. For the love of God, you need to listen to me. For your sake, for your mother’s sake. Sam is not my boy. You hear me? He is a demon’s spawn. I got it right from the source. He’s a demon. He’s turned you on me… like they always planned. Are you listening to me? This is me. Your father. I’ve loved you all my life. Didn’t I always take care of you? You can’t do this. You know it’s not what you want.”**

**Dean’s eyes burned, even in the dark John could see how they glinted. When Dean spoke it sounded far off, the hollows of his soul having a voice.**

**“Sam kept your secret. He never told me what you did to him. You used me to fuck my brother. You used how much he loves me… to have him believe all the poisonous shit that came pouring out of you. You think calling my mother a whore, a demon slut… is just enough reason to beat and rape my brother? That same ‘mother’ you’re using right now to try and turn it all around. You don’t know her. There’s only some of Mom left… and she’s not with you. She’s in me. She’s in SAM…”**

**Dean dropped his arm, John visibly relaxing when the gun lowered, but his moment was short lived when Dean shot out his knees. John bellowed in pain and hit the ground, Dean walking around him in a slow close circle.**

**“You never should have touched him, dad. Never. If you hated him so much, you should have left him with me and gone the fuck away. You could have lived on hate, like you always wanted to. You deserve to be cut into so many pieces no one could tell you were ever a body…”**

**John saw the dead vampires ringing the floor and saw himself reflected in their glassy stares. He crawled back, dragging himself by his arms as pain blazed endlessly up and down his legs. He would never have imagined this scenario in a million years. Slipping in his own blood, his prized son staring at him like he was one of the monsters.**

**“Dean…”**

**Another shot rang out and caught John’s shoulder, pushing the fallen man to the floor. John yelled in pain and then recalled the small gun tucked into his boot. He reached for it and was not sure why Dean did not try to stop him. A hard steel nudge to his skull gave him a hint as Dean stood over him.**

**“You saying Sam wasn’t your son…doesn’t change anything. Not a fucking thing. It doesn’t matter any more what Sam was or wasn’t to you. You may not be his father… but I am his brother. And…he’s mine.”**

**Dean said the last few words so soft it was like a whisper. John strained to think of what to say, but then his world went black. Dean executed his father and put the man out of his misery. He stepped away from his father’s body and reached into his coat, pulling out salt, lighter fluid and matches. When John was well on his way to never being able to hurt anyone again, Dean whispered, “Abyssus abyssum invocat …” (Hell invokes Hell)**

****


	10. Chapter 10

  
Author's notes: Dean returns to Sam...  


* * *

We'll do it all 

Everything 

On our own 

 

We don't need 

Anything 

Or anyone 

 

If I lay here 

If I just lay here 

Would you lie with me and just forget the world? 

 

I don't quite know 

How to say 

How I feel 

 

Those three words 

I said too much 

They're not enough 

 

If I lay here 

If I just lay here 

Would you lie with me and just forget the world? 

 

Forget what we're told 

Before we get too old 

Show me a garden that's bursting into life 

 

Let's waste time 

Chasing cars 

Around our heads 

 

I need your grace 

To remind me 

To find my own 

 

If I lay here 

If I just lay here 

Would you lie with me and just forget the world? 

 

Forget what we're told 

Before we get too old 

Show me a garden that's bursting into life 

 

All that I am 

All that I ever was 

Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see 

 

I don't know where 

Confused about how as well 

Just know that these things will never change for us at all 

 

If I lay here 

If I just lay here 

Would you lie with me and just forget the world? 

 

(Chasing Cars- Snow Patrol)

 

When he heard the car pull up outside, Bobby was glad of it. The phone call from Dean asking for directions had just about given him heart failure from all the questions he wasn’t asking. Because if Dean was alive and well, done with what he went to do, that meant John was gone. Didn’t it? Bobby had not learned anything new from Sam over what was going on but he knew it was over Sam. Whatever happened to turn Dean like that? It all had something to do with long dark hair, surprisingly sweet eyes and way too many feet of irate house guest.

 

Bobby pushed up from his chair and met Dean at the door, seeing how tired the kid was. Definitely feeling this one. How could you not? It was well past personal. Dean was clean, but after calling five days ago, Dean would have had time to remove any and all evidence from himself. He studied Dean obviously as the younger man entered his crash house, those green eyes automatically looking around. Like Sam should have met him at the door like a puppy. 

 

“Where’s Sammy?”

 

The older hunter cleared his throat and sat on the arm of an easy chair that had seen better days. He eyed Dean and replied

 

“I’ve been keeping him calm, not goin’ anywhere. That’s what you said you wanted. Safe and sound, if not necessarily quiet or good about it. Just… he was developin a pretty good immunity to the powder I was using so I tried something else. I might’ve mis-dosed him some.”

 

Dean was already off and heading down the cramped hallway as Bobby yelled after him, “Try to stay outta reach! He’s a little out of it…”

 

Why Bobby thought this was funny escaped Dean.

 

So not amusing if Sam overdosed on sedatives and muscle relaxers. That was not what Dean had wanted, obviously. He opened the back bedroom door and saw his brother lying inelegantly over the twin sized bed, making it look even smaller. Sam was stretched out on his back, tshirt rucked up high to reveal his fingers rubbing over one small beaded nipple. Dean’s breath caught and he stared, because Sam’s other hand? Was busy, cupping and stroking himself through his boxers like he had all the time in the world to jerk off. Sam’s head turned his way and that sunrise smile appeared.

 

“Dean?”

 

It was a question, a statement and a caress.

 

“I was…jus… thinking about you…C’mere…”

 

Dean closed the door and looked over his shoulder to Bobby’s shit-eating grin. Dean flushed, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks even as Bobby let go and fucking laughed. A big belly laugh, a hand clapping Dean’s shoulder.

 

“That was worth the whole week of babysitting the giant kid. You should see your face. Whew. Yeah. He’s reallll chatty like this. Kept telling me exactly what he needed to feel better and not want to go anywhere. I bet he thinks you’re a hallucination…-”

 

“Bobby.”

 

Dean sighed and then recalled his manners, even now, Bobby deserved better than being yelled at.

 

“Thanks for taking care of Sam. I got it from here.”

 

“Good to know. I’ve got some things to take care of. You can use the place long as you need to, just lock up when you go. Not shit worth stealing but I like to keep up appearances…”

 

Bobby amusedly tipped his hat to Dean and soon enough he was leaving the Winchester boys in the lean-to of a house. Dean had a cup of coffee for energy before he went back to Sam. He was better prepared this time for the very happy Sammy he saw. Dean sat beside Sam on the bed and looked down to his brother’s expectant face.

 

“Sammy…miss me?”

 

“You’re a dick.”

 

Dean laughed faintly at the words and ran his free hand through Sam’s tousled hair, twisting those dark curls at the greeting.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Sam was trying to think past the opiates in his system, because he did have a few things to say to Dean Winchester. Mr. My Way Or The Highway. 

 

“You should have called, Dean. I worried.”

 

“I couldn’t call.”

 

Dean knew it would hardly make Sam feel better to know the details and even if details would help? Dean was not ready to share. During his drive back to Sam, Dean had plenty of time to think and it was the hardest journey to endure. He had killed his father. In cold blood. He had murdered his father. He had his reasons and he believed in them, but it did not change the fact that John Winchester was dead and Dean had been the one to do it. 

 

“I figured, Sam, if I called… I’d want too bad to come back. I wouldn’t believe anyone could watch you like I could or keep you safe…”

 

“I’m not a baby…”

 

“You’re my baby.”

 

Dean leaned over, a coffee-warm kiss grazing Sam’s lips. He kissed his brother lingeringly, setting the coffee aside lest he spill it on them both. He drew Sam tight to his body, strong arms holding Sam’s warm lithe form close.

 

Sam relented and wrapped his arms around Dean, still knowing he had more to say and no, he wasn’t a baby, but being…Dean’s… baby didn’t sound so bad at all. He kissed Dean, wanting it deeper and more but his older brother kept the kiss glancing and sweet. Not even giving him tongue.

 

“Dean…come on…”

 

“Not like this.”

 

“What? Dean… please…I want it… I want you…”

 

“You’re stoned off your ass.”

 

Dean said the words without bite, a gentle brush of his full lips to Sam’s ear making the younger Winchester tremble. 

 

“Where’s this book of yours that says only you know when it’s the right time?”

 

Dean chuckled at Sam’s question, one scarred hand tracing the lines of Sam’s belly and hip.

 

“I memorized it and burnt the sole copy. Did Bobby feed you today?”

 

“You’re a real jerk. I am not even hungry. Dean… is this some messed up… not wanting to touch me because I’ve been… touched so much… thing? Tell me the truth. Are you thinking I’m… fragile or something?”

 

Dean kissed the angry bow of Sam’s lips and nuzzled their mouths together, coaxing a slow pout. Sam was a gorgeous pouter. He cupped Sam’s face in his palm.

 

“You’ve never been touched. Not by me… and I’m thinking that’s all that matters… I want it to be good, Sam. It’d be good now… but you might not even remember it. Or maybe it…”

 

Sam licked Dean’s lower lip and sucked it into his mouth, so needy for that taste and warmth. He curled his body tight to Dean’s, feeling evidence of his older brother’s interest pressed to his hip. Sam moved against Dean’s erection and felt rewarded by the soft gasp from those so pink lips.

 

“So…no?”

 

Dean mmm-ed over Sam’s whispered request and looked down over all he was being offered. He wanted to divest Sam of the cotton clothes wrapping around muscles and hollows and show him exactly how loved he was, but Dean balked. He didn’t want a drugged Sam for their first time. Call him old-fashioned.

 

“Tell you what… let’s eat… get packed… take a drive… “

 

“Yeah that sounds really different than what we’ve been doing every day forever…”

 

“Tonight will make it different.”

 

Dean said the words softly and Sam caught his breath.

 

“Tonight? You promise?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Sam smiled and then exuberantly rolled on top of Dean, pressing him down for eager breath-stealing kisses.

 

“Alright then. I don’t even care if we have to go to a Denny’s.”

 

“You sweet talker…”

 

Dean laughed and appreciated the feel of Sam sitting over him, looking down at him like that. He sighed when they had to get out of bed, wondering why he promised Sam tonight so quickly. Dean had made a plan during the drive to slowly go into anything more physical with Sam. He had promised himself he’d take it easy and make sure it was really good for Sam and not something that was going to require therapy in its aftermath. But thinking that reasonable 12 step plan and then enforcing it as Sam was eagerly rubbing against you? Dean sighed, he was only human.


	11. Chapter 11

  
Author's notes: Samma gets his groove back.  


* * *

  
  
  
Mama told me when I was young

Come sit beside me, my only son

And listen closely to what I say.

And if you do this

It will help you some sunny day.

Take your time... don’t live too fast,

Troubles will come and they will pass.

Go find a woman and you’ll find love,

And don’t forget son,

There is someone up above.

And be a simple kind of man.

Be something you love and understand.

Be a simple kind of man.

Won’t you do this for me son,

If you can? 

Forget your lust for the rich mans gold

All that you need is in your soul,

And you can do this if you try.

All that I want for you my son,

Is to be satisfied.

Boy, don’t you worry... you’ll find yourself.

Follow you heart and nothing else.

And you can do this if you try.

All I want for you my son,

Is to be satisfied.

  
Dean frowned when Sam splashed Coke on the table, his brother seeming to be all thumbs over dinner. But Dean didn’t say anything. Maybe Sam was still too doped up for his usual level of grace. Dean ignored it when Sam’s elbow sent Dean’s first plate of fries to the floor, the way his brother apologized to the server and helped clean it up made the elder Winchester want to bust a gut laughing but he held it back. Then Sam shook the ketchup bottle and squeezed, the lid he had not flipped open came flying off and Dean yelled as he was splattered in red. Tomatoes this time as opposed to something’s blood. Wiping ketchup from his cheek, Dean grabbed some napkins as Sam was sputtering a nervous apology and trying to rub the mess into Dean’s plaid shirt.

 

“Sam…Sam…SAM… stop. Just. Stop.”

 

Dean did not need Sam’s big mitts all over him as he was cleaning up and hearing people at other tables tittering in amusement. Dean slid from the booth and pointed to his brother.

 

“You stay here. I’m going to clean up. Stay.”

 

As Dean walked back to the men’s room, Sam winced and covered his abashedly blushing face with one hand. Je-sus. He had really made this a great night so far for Dean. Just thinking about tonight and what it would mean, Sam was all nerves. He wanted it to be good. Not good, perfect. It was Dean, it needed to be perfect. He cringed as he cleaned up the ketchup off the table, not even hungry now. Dean had not smacked him but Sam wished he had. It might make him feel less guilty over klutzing his way through dinner. Sam went to pay their bill and the waitress looked at him knowingly before she was running his credit card and making him nervous. Did she realize he wasn’t Jerome Shelton? God, was he adding a credit card mishap to their night?

 

“First date, huh?”

 

Sam blinked, staring at her as she popped her gum and handed his card back. The waitress nodded and whispered, “It happens to all of us. But you know… he’s a real cutie and he’s so into you. He stares at you. You don’t have a thing to worry about. Take a deep breath…there you go… and just remember that he is with YOU… It’ll help…hush, he’s coming back…”

 

Sam blushed guiltily, “Thanks. Thanks so much, Kelly.” He turned as Dean was at his side, a little relieved Dean was ready to go , looking pretty good even if his shirt was damp. The stains weren’t too evident. 

 

“Would you quit saying sorry?”

 

Dean asked as they left the brightly lit diner.

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

“It’s the eyes. Volumes, Sammy. I can hear it.”

 

Dean clapped a hand to his brother’s back before they were getting into the Impala.

 

“You want to tell me what’s got you so jumpy? Is the circus in town or something?”

 

“Funny.”

 

Dean smiled, his grin reaching his eyes. “One of my many winsome traits. So… ? What’s bunching the Sammy bits up?”

 

Sam squirmed in his seat, shifting from side to side and trying to get settled. He knew they were on their way to some random hotel. That was not any different but what came after would be. It would be the first time for them to meet as lovers. To be lovers. Moving past hand holding or kisses, talking the talk. He chewed at his lower lip and then shot a look to Dean.

 

“Tonight.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Dean relaxed. He could handle jitters or cold feet, a change of Sam’s mind. Those were things he could deal with. After the week he’d had, it was more than cool if Sam was nervous.

 

“Sammy? We don’t have to do…-”

 

“No, no…I want to. I want to…a lot. I just want it to be…you know… good. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

 

The elder brother shook his head. “For a college boy, you can be so dumb sometimes.” He smiled gently to Sam. “You never disappoint me. Even if we just hang out and watch pay-per-view…I’m not saying that’s all we’ll do, don’t give me that look, hotpants. I’m just saying. It’s you and me. That’s what matters. Hear me? Let’s just relax… see where it goes.”

 

“I know where it goes.”

 

Dean gasped a laugh, eyes sparkling. “Was that a …joke…Sam? You gonna be okay?”

 

Sam flipped his brother off and then they drove to the Motor Inn with companionable silence. They parked outside of the main office and Dean went inside to rent their room. The room was a bit nicer than usual. At least there was no ‘motif’. Nothing glaringly unique about the room that would be as tacky as it was unsettling. Just blues and greens, soothing really. Sam dropped his bag by the sole bed in the room and stared at it. They’d never had a room with just one bed before. He saw Dean was already checking out the mini-bar and watched a little bit of Dean’s homemade, live jean porn as his brother bent over to peer into the mini-fridge. Sam eyed that band of dark gold skin revealed between the edge of Dean’s shirt and his jeans, so subtle but it drew Sam’s eyes like a magnet. 

 

“Fuck…”

 

Sam’s word was breathed out and Dean straightened, holding a few little glass bottles in his hand as he saw his brother looking him over.

 

“Was that for me?”

 

Sam answered by standing up and skimming off his jacket. He let it hit the floor before he was kicking off his shoes, socks going flying. Dean leaned back to the mini-bar to watch, getting an unrestricted view of his little brother stripping off. Revealing his wide shoulders, sculpted chest down to narrow hips. Dean liked the line of Sam’s hip that led into his jeans. Sam’s jeans followed the rest of his clothing and then his boxers were gone too. Oh. Dean’s eyes widened on the length of Sam revealed to him in all its glory. Sam apparently had three legs. Dean stared at the plum-like tip of Sam’s shaft and then licked his lips.

 

“How do you walk with that thing?”

 

A husky soft laugh came from Sam before his fingers traced the underside of his rigid length, barely lifting it under the head.

 

“It’s not always like this, Dean…”

 

Sam walked towards Dean and plucked the little bottles of booze from his brother’s hand, sitting them aside. He looked down over Dean and then hushed Dean’s words with a soft kiss. He unbuttoned Dean’s damp shirt and pulled it off of his brother. He loved seeing the lines of Dean’s shoulders and chest under his shirt, that painted on black t-shirt. Dean lifted his arms to help the shirt come off and then Sam was kissing his neck. If you could call it kissing. It was more like being eaten without teeth breaking your skin. Sam lapped at his throat, bit at the flesh of his shoulder. Dean was covered in goose-bumps and it took him by surprise to be shoved to the bed. Sam divested him of his boots, all his clothes. Quicker than Dean might have been able to do for himself.

 

 

“Sam…”

 

“Shhh…”

 

Sam sank to his knees between Dean’s legs and pushed them apart, licking and kissing Dean’s inner thighs, saying something about ‘peach fuzz’ before he was licking again. Dean sat up and groaned, taken aback by how fervently Sam was going at him. Sam was latching onto Dean’s cock and opening his mouth, his throat, so fast. Dean reached down and nudged Sam’s shoulder, pulling at him.

 

“Sam…hey… hey… look at me…”

 

Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean’s and Dean saw anxiety there, bleeding through lust and want. Sam was trying so hard, too hard. Dean pulled free of Sam, crawling back on the bed.

 

“What did I do wrong?”

 

Sam asked pleadingly of Dean, his lips wet from his efforts, fuller. He reached out for Dean and his hand was taken when Dean pulled him onto the bed. 

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong…but… I want to touch you too. I want to talk… and hear you talk… It’s … it’s not just about getting off, Sam.”

 

Twin flags of color lit Sam’s cheeks and he bowed his head, not sure what Dean was asking of him. He wanted to give Dean what he knew how to give. He was a little soothed when Dean’s lips pressed to his. Dean cupped Sam’s jaw and gently opened his mouth wider to admit tongue. Dean’s tongue was in Sam’s mouth, stroking and loving, making a hopeful purr come from Sam. 

 

“Yeah…like that…”

 

Dean licked over Sam’s mouth and the corners of his lips, tongue tickling before he nipped Sam, taking away the need to bat him away. Sam’s dimples were kissed and then Dean was tracing over his jaw with licks and nuzzles, drawing skin over his teeth and tongue, sampling. Dean whispered to Sam’s ear.

“Do you like this? Does it feel good?”

 

Sam nodded, trembling at how good it felt. He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, loving the spikes under his touch. He gripped the back of Dean’s neck when his brother’s stubble rasped over Sam’s flat nipples. It felt like heaven, that playful scouring. Dean’s tongue perused Sam’s pecs, over his abdomen and down his belly. Dean smiled up to Sam and then that smile was moving over Sam’s groin. Sam moaned hot and long when Dean nuzzled into his curls, inhaling his scent, rubbing a cheek to Sam’s ready cock. Dean loved feeling Sam twitch under his lips as he kissed the base of that impressive length. Dean lingered, taking time as he kissed upwards, worshiping a cock clearly made for lavish attention. Dean’s full lips parted around Sam’s crown and he had his first musky drop taste of Sam. Dean mmm-ed at the taste, sucking that slit and darting his tongue into it, tempting another drop to fall.

 

“Deeean… please…”

 

Dean bunched his fists in the sheets to either side of Sam’s hips and gave his brother what he wanted. He sank Sam into his mouth, letting that thickness weigh down his tongue, own his mouth. He looked down, his eyes veiled as he watched Sam’s cock sliding into his suckling lips. Beautiful.

 

Dark red to soft pink, Sam stared at himself embedded in Dean’s lips, thinking he might pass out before he even got to cum. He had never been kissed and touched like this. As if it was for him, like he mattered. He wasn’t just anyone in the equation. Dean was loving him. Dean was showing him he was worth appreciating. Sam wanted to tell Dean he was not going to make it. He was going to cum. He tried to whisper it and his sounds made no sense, but Dean just nodded and sank down deeper. Sucked harder. Sam bucked up from the bed and he was cumming, jolted by how ferociously he spent for Dean.

 

Dean swallowed every drop and crawled back up Sam’s body, kissing the quivering skin all over his brother before sharing Sam’s cum with him. They kissed hotly and Sam was rolling Dean under him. He rubbed his half-hard cock to Dean’s full erection, rubbing and teasing as they groaned together. Sam grabbed Dean’s wrists and pinned his brother, flexing and fucking their cocks together. Dean was not fighting the grip, his legs spreading to give Sam more. Give him whatever he wanted. 

 

“Sam… you want to fuck me?”

 

Sam blinked in shock. He was full and stiff again, but he had not imagined being inside of Dean. He made a little face and whispered, “I’d rather take it. I mean…from you… Would you?”

 

“This time…but… I want it both ways, Sammy… I want to feel you too…”

 

“You have me, Dean…”

 

Dean moved off the bed and opened his pack, finding some lube in a side pocket. He bypassed the condoms, wanting to get Sam wet from their efforts. He wanted Sam marked inside from him and no one else. Dean lubricated his shaft and then slid a finger into Sam. He pumped his finger to his brother’s tightness as Sam groaned and arched like they were already going at it. So gorgeous. So fucking perfect. Dean panted, his finger withdrawing and then two were entering Sam, scissoring and slowly spreading him. Wanting that heat around him. Dean asked, “How do you want it, Sammy?”

 

“Like this…you on top…so I can see your face…”

 

Sam did not have to wait long before Dean was easing into him, going so slow it was a grinding low tease. Dean did not want to hurt him and he didn’t. So careful, so gentle. Dean flexed within Sam, feeling that hot silk clasping him, locking them together. He thrust to Sam and felt the air leave him before he was having to move again. Chase that feeling, never let it stop. He cupped Sam’s legs behind the knees, pushing them back and up as he went deeper. More. Sam’s pleas were hammering Dean’s senses like heroin, and he could not stop fucking his lover. His brother. His Sammy. He looked down and watched when Sam groaned so pained and needy, knowing what the sound meant. Dean’s eyes fastened to Sam’s cock when the younger brother was cumming again. Sweet hot milk splashed over Sam’s belly and chest, painting tanned skin and triggering Dean’s own release. Dean growled hotly and rammed hard, forcing every drop into Sam before he was yelling his brother’s name. Sam caught Dean when the elder brother fell, boneless in the power of his climax. Sam held Dean to him and crooned faint words that might mean nothing to some, but everything to them.


	12. Chapter 12

  
Author's notes: The morning after...

 

 

 

* * *

  
  
There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel

Open and closed within your eyes

I'll place the sky within your eyes  
There's such a fooled heart

Beating so fast in search of new dreams

A love that will last within your heart

I'll place the moon within your heart  
As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill has gone

Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you

As the world falls down

Falling

(As the world) Falling down

Falling in love  
I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine evenings

Though we're strangers till now

We're choosing the path between the stars

I'll lay my love between the stars  
(As The World Falls Down- David Bowie)  
The sound of a car backfiring caused both Winchester boys to jerk awake, but after a grumpy sound, Dean fell back asleep. Sam lay next to his brother, skin to skin as he heard Dean’s breath evening out again. So not a morning person. Sam smiled a little and rested one hand to the small of Dean’s back. Feeling a rush at being able to touch Dean however he wanted to. He had Dean inside of him three times the night before and each time had led to a thundering orgasm that Sam still felt tingling over his system. Dean was being so damned… loving… about it all. Sam liked it, really enjoyed it, but certain aspects of his own sexual needs demanded more. He wanted the not so nice side of Dean to come to bed with him as well. He wanted to know what turned Dean on, outside of the sweetness and sliding flesh. There was more to Dean and Sam wanted it all. He was greedy for Dean, having starved for him all his life, his brother there but just out of reach. No more. 

 

Sam rolled onto his side and kissed the bare shoulder of his lover, getting a huff out of Dean before his older brother pulled the blankets up and did not even blink. So even fantastic sex on a stick was not drawing Dean from his sleep before he was good and ready. Sam had to wonder how much sleep Dean had denied himself tracking John. He could easily imagine Dean Redbulling it down the road and telling himself he could sleep when he was done working. Dean had a single-mindedness on a hunt that could be scary. 

 

Going after John though. That was something Sam scarcely could fathom. Even now. It came to him like a newsflash from time to time that John was dead. John was gone. Dean had killed their father. Or his own father, if John’s words on Sam’s ancestry were viable. The man that had blasted them with his expectations and disparaging comments all their life? They would never hear from him again. Those criticisms and orders were cut off. Sam sat up in bed and felt a lump of ice in his lower belly. He could not help it. Couldn’t explain it. It was over. It should be enough that John would not hurt him again.

 

He slid from the bed and picked up some clean clothes and then let himself into the bathroom. Sam washed his face and shaved before he was showering. Standing under the water, Sam turned it up until it almost hurt, wanting to feel warm. He did not know why but tears were streaming down his face and he thought, he could do this, for a minute. He could just relax and let the damned tears out and then he would be fine again. He could be good before Dean was awake. But the hitch in his breath had other ideas and he was fucking sobbing as the water beat over him.

 

 

Biscuits and gravy. That was Dean’s first conscious thought swimming to the surface. He had seen the Bob Evan’s close to the exit and that meant breakfast all day, most especially the biscuits and gravy they made there, which he loved with a stack of bacon that Sam would eat most of. He rolled over onto his belly and made a sound of lust considering breakfast. One eye opened to look for Sam and tell him they were going to eat, but Sam was missing in action. Dean heard the shower as he sat on the edge of the bed and yawned before he closed his mouth and listened. He heard the shower running but that wasn’t all. Husky notes hit his ears and he realized Sam was crying. Like he was hurt.

 

Dean stood from the bed and walked naked to the bathroom door, letting himself in. He felt the rush of steam hit him and was instantly damp all over from it. Too hot. Stifling hot. He didn’t bother asking Sam if he was okay or done bathing, just reaching in and turning off the water before he was pulling Sam out.

 

“Hey… Sammy… you trying to boil yourself?”

 

Dean wrapped a towel around his brother and then pulled him into the room they could breathe in. Once Sam was sitting to the edge of the bed, Dean was drying over his brother‘s fey-tangled mop of hair. He was waiting for Sam to say something, not wanting to push so much Sam clammed up on him. 

 

Sam was embarrassed to be taking comfort from Dean considering the circumstances. Considering that he had been the catalyst to drive Dean into killing John. He had no right to have Dean making him feel better right now. He reached up and took the towel from Dean, throwing it aside before he grabbed his brother’s hands.

 

“I’m … -”

 

Sam couldn’t make himself say ‘fine’. It lodged in his throat and didn’t move. He sighed and bit his lower lip before he whispered the words in his heart.

 

“Dean, you just gotta understand. I don’t want you thinking I don’t know what you did for me. What you did… something you never would’ve done if not for me. I didn’t even try to take care of myself. Like maybe I should have. I should have kept you out of it. It’s not your problem. It wasn’t your problem. I should have been the one, if it had to be done. Damn it… all this shit in my head… I just want it to be over and gone… so I can just fucking love you. Like we could ever go back and make it something clean. Where I wasn’t ever… his piece of meat… and you…”

 

Dean’s mouth turned down and he felt like his heart was beating against brick walls. Nowhere to go and no idea how vulnerable it could be. The heart never thought ahead much and left the rest of you to deal with its aftermath the best you could.

 

“What are you saying Sammy? Not my problem? From the day you were born, I loved you like crazy. It’s not changed. Not the love. The way we show it, yeah… but not the love. You were hurt. He…”

 

“Dad.”

 

Dean did not like hearing the way Sam’s voice cut the word into the air. Like Dean didn’t know who ‘he’ was. He just nodded to Sam.

 

“…abused and violated you. I could never pretend that he was going to do that and walk away.”

 

“Maybe he would have just stayed away.”

 

“No.”

 

“You don’t know that Dean.”

 

“What do you want me to say, Sam? You want me to apologize?”

 

Dean’s eyes were throwing sparks and he stepped away from Sam. He picked up his jeans from the night before and put them on, motions jerky and angry.

 

Sam breathed out over his teeth, biting the tip of his tongue as he stared at Dean.

 

“No. I just want you to … talk to me about it. I know it’s hurting you and you haven’t said a word about it. You need to talk to me.”

 

Dean’s eyes were burning as he opened his bag and took out a tshirt, dressing while Sam was looking at him like he was letting him down somehow. Or like Dean was some kind of monster for taking out John the way he did. He had kept it quicker than he could have. Didn’t he get extra feathers in his angel wings for that? No? Then fuck angel wings. 

 

“You don’t have to know, Sam. There’s no reason to hash it over like we can redo the past by talking fucking what-ifs until we’re blue in the face. Drop it. Maybe I don’t talk about it because I’d like to move the hell ON. Is that so hard to grasp?”

 

“If I didn’t know you, maybe that’d be enough.”

 

Sam had that stubborn look and even with his eyes swollen from crying, he managed to convey his tenacity. How he was so not letting it go. Or dropping it. Nothing of the sort. Sam was digging in his heels and working Dean’s nerves like the pro he was.

 

“It’s not enough? Well suck it up because it’s all I’ve got to give.”

 

Dean regretted the words a heartbeat after spitting them but Sam was not looking dissuaded anyway. Just waiting. Dean spread his hands to either side of his body and faced Sam.

 

“FINE. What do you want to know? Ask.”

 

Sam nodded like they were making progress.

 

“How did you do it?”

 

Eyes closed, Dean moved back and slumped to the wall, sliding down to sit to the carpeted floor, arms draped over his knees. He did not look at his brother as he tried to decide how to answer the question.

 

“Gun. I shot him.”

 

“Clean? One headshot?”

 

“Sam.”

“Tell me.”

 

Dean’s jaw worked and then he growled out, “More than one shot. But the last one was in the head.”

 

“You cut him?”

 

“Fuck…”

 

“The way you took off, Dean…I didn’t know what you were going to do. You never called to tell me shit. I had time to think… and try to see what you were getting into… it scared me. I just wanted you here with me…”

 

“I didn’t … I didn’t take my time.”

 

Dean felt as exposed as if he was giving a speech in the nude here, for the Amish. He opened his eyes and met Sam’s steady gaze.

 

“I finished him off pretty quick, Sam. You have my word.”

 

‘Pretty quick’. Sam did not miss that clarification. He was just glad Dean was looking at him again.

 

“It’s okay to regret it, Dean.”

 

Dean stared at Sam and felt at a loss. He was angry over the whole conversation but the words to express it were escaping him. He just wanted it to be over. He had woken up in a fucking good mood but it was being ran through right now in a big way. He swept his tongue over his lips.

 

“You regret it, Sam? You think I did wrong killing Dad?”

 

Sam gazed at Dean and saw the naked light in his brother’s eyes. Dean’s fear of rejection swimming there as he waited to see what Sam was going to say. How he would be judged. Measure up. 

 

“I wish it had not come to that.”

 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t it? Dean? If I never told you what happened, if I had made it stop myself… if I…”

 

“If. If. If.” Dean spoke wearily. “Don’t you get tired of it, Sam? Saying all the things that can’t be and letting them rain shit all over what you DO have? I’m not sorry. Not for killing him. I’m sorry for missing signs he was damaging you. There’s a difference.”

 

“So you went in…and you iced him… and then you walked away, and you’re fine with it. You don’t look at me and think…wow… Sam managed to get rid of my mom and my dad… that’s really something? You don’t see that because of me…”

 

“GOD. You’re making my head explode. I swear to all that’s holy, Sam, you’d drive a deaf mute into a screaming fit. No. No I don’t look at you and think you cost me too much or you’re trouble. Any of the other weird crap you said. No. I love you. I kept it quick with Dad because I didn’t want to BE him, alright? I wanted to keep part of myself to bring back to YOU… and have this. Us. Not wasting more time on something bad when it could be over… Is that so crazy?”

 

Sam shook his head and reached out to Dean. 

 

“No…I’m sorry…I didn’t…”

 

“Just…”

 

Dean shook his head and stood. He was jumbled in his mood and wanted to punch a hole in the wall but kept from it.

 

“Just stop pushing, Sam. Take me at my word. If I’m so mentally incompetent, just don’t give me sharp things and stand too close. I can handle this, alright? It’s not the killing that got me. It’s the reason it came. It’s knowing a man I followed like a shadow could that to you. To the last gift Mom gave me and him both… That’s what hurts and burns. Not the killing. There. That make you feel better?”

 

Sam bowed his head, knowing Dean was bruised inside and working out his demons the best he could but even if it pissed Dean off, Sam was not going to quit asking him questions and wanting to help him through the rough spots. There was no way he was leaving Dean alone with himself. 

 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you asking, Dean. I just want to be there for you like you are for me. I want to be as good for you. You don’t know what a tall order that is. When you always want me to be the baby. Always the little brother… and I want…”

 

Dean stepped over to Sam cupping his hands to either side of his brother’s head, tilting Sam’s face back.

 

“You are my baby. You aren’t little any more, but you’re my baby. It can be a real good thing, Sam…”

 

Sam smiled as he heard the timbre of Dean’s tone. He felt his body stirring in interest and Dean must have noticed too because he stepped away.

 

“Get dressed. I’m having another man before I fuck you again.”

 

“WHAT?”

 

Sam’s angry yowl was adorable. Dean smiled to him, liking the jealous streak.

 

“Bob Evans. So hurry up…”  
  



End file.
